initial commit of ebook 21240HEADmain

1 files changed, 14101 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/21240.txt b/21240.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cbe879e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/21240.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,14101 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lone Ranche, by Captain Mayne Reid
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Lone Ranche
+
+Author: Captain Mayne Reid
+
+Release Date: April 27, 2007 [EBook #21240]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LONE RANCHE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
+
+
+
+
+
+The Lone Ranche
+A Tale of the Staked Plain
+
+By Captain Mayne Reid
+________________________________________________________________________
+This was quite a hard book to transcribe, and I hope there are not now
+too many errors remaining.  For one thing several of the people of the
+book speak a very rough version of the language, so that there are many
+hundreds of "words" appearing in the book, that are not in the
+dictionary.  And the "new" words are not always consistently spelt.
+
+There are numerous Spanish or Mexican words used in the book, but I
+am no scholar in these tongues.  I just did my best to get them right.
+
+Another problem was that the type used to print the book had been
+damaged in many places, which meant that it was sometimes very hard to
+decipher.  After much poring there remains only one damaged word in the
+book, of which I am not certain.
+
+As if this were not enough I made the mistake of scanning the book too
+dark, which meant that in very many cases a full stop following the
+letters `t' and sometimes `e' had not come correctly through the OCR
+process; and also any stains on the pages obscured the letters under
+them.  This greatly increased the amount of work needed to transcribe
+the book.
+
+I suppose this is among the very first "cowboy and Indian" books.  If
+you are interested in this genre, here is the book for you.  NH
+________________________________________________________________________
+
+THE LONE RANCHE
+A TALE OF THE STAKED PLAIN
+
+BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID
+
+
+
+CHAPTER ONE.
+
+A TALE OF THE STAKED PLAIN.
+
+"HATS OFF!"
+
+Within the city of Chihuahua, metropolis of the northern provinces of
+Mexico--for the most part built of mud--standing in the midst of vast
+barren plains, o'ertopped by bold porphyritic mountains--plains with a
+population sparse as their timber--in the old city of Chihuahua lies the
+first scene of our story.
+
+Less than twenty thousand people dwell within the walls of this North
+Mexican metropolis, and in the country surrounding it a like limited
+number.
+
+Once they were thicker on the soil; but the tomahawk of the Comanche and
+the spear of the Apache have thinned off the descendants of the
+_Conquistadores_, until country houses stand at wide distances apart,
+with more than an equal number of ruins between.
+
+Yet this same city of Chihuahua challenges weird and wonderful memories.
+At the mention of its name springs up a host of strange records, the
+souvenirs of a frontier life altogether different from that wreathed
+round the history of Anglo-American borderland.  It recalls the cowled
+monk with his cross, and the soldier close following with his sword; the
+old mission-house, with its church and garrison beside it; the fierce
+savage lured from a roving life, and changed into a toiling _peon_,
+afterwards to revolt against a system of slavery that even religion
+failed to make endurable; the neophyte turning his hand against his
+priestly instructor, equally his oppressor; revolt followed by a deluge
+of blood, with ruinous devastation, until the walls of both _mission_
+and military _cuartel_ are left tenantless, and the redskin has returned
+to his roving.
+
+Such a history has had the city of Chihuahua and the settlements in its
+neighbourhood.  Nor is the latter portion of it all a chronicle of the
+olden time.  Much of it belongs to modern days; ay, similar scenes are
+transpiring even now.  But a few years ago a stranger entering its gates
+would have seen nailed overhead, and whisked to and fro by the wind,
+some scores of objects similar to one another, and resembling tufts of
+hair, long, trailing, and black, as if taken from the manes or tails of
+horses.  But it came not thence; it was human hair; and the patches of
+skin that served to keep the bunches together had been stripped from
+human skulls!  They were _scalps_--the scalps of Indians, showing that
+the Comanche and Apache savages had not had it all their own way.
+
+Beside them could be seen other elevated objects of auricle shape, set
+in rows or circles like a festooning of child peppers strung up for
+preservation.  No doubt their procurement had drawn tears from the eyes
+of those whose heads had furnished them, for they were human ears!
+
+These ghastly souvenirs were the _bounty warrants_ of a band whose deeds
+have been already chronicled by this same pen.  They were the trophies
+of "Scalp Hunters"--vouchers for the number of Indians they had killed.
+
+They were there less than a quarter of a century ago, waving in the dry
+wind that sweeps over the plains of Chihuahua.  For aught the writer
+knows, they may be there still; or, if not the same, others of like gory
+record replacing or supplementing them.
+
+It is not with the "Scalp Hunters" we have now to do--only with the city
+of Chihuahua.  And not much with it either.  A single scene occurring in
+its streets is all of Chihuahuaense life to be depicted in this tale.
+
+It was the spectacle of a religious procession--a thing far from
+uncommon in Chihuahua or any other Mexican town; on the contrary, so
+common that at least weekly the like may be witnessed.  This was one of
+the grandest, representing the story of the Crucifixion.  Citizens of
+all classes assisted at the ceremony, the soldiery also taking part in
+it.  The clergy, of course, both secular and regular, were its chief
+supports and propagators.  To them it brought bread, and if not butter--
+since there is none in Chihuahua--it added to their incomes and
+influence, by the sale of leaden crosses, images of the Virgin Mother,
+and the numerous sisterhood of saints.  In the _funcion_ figured the
+usual Scripture characters:--The Redeemer conducted to the place of
+Passion; the crucifix, borne on the shoulders of a brawny, brown-skinned
+Simon; Pilate the oppressor; Judas the betrayer--in short, every
+prominent personage spoken of as having been present on that occasion
+when the Son of Man suffered for our sins.
+
+There is, or was then, an American hotel in Chihuahua, or at least one
+conducted in the American fashion, though only a mere _posada_.  Among
+its guests was a gentleman, stranger to the town, as the country.  His
+dress and general appearance bespoke him from the States, and by the
+same tokens it could be told that he belonged to their southern section.
+He was in truth a Kentuckian; but so far from representing the type,
+tall, rough, and stalwart, usually ascribed to the people "Kaintuck," he
+was a man of medium size, with a build comparable to that of the
+Belvidere Apollo.  He had a figure tersely set, with limbs well knitted;
+a handsome face and features of amiable cast, at the same time
+expressing confidence and courage.  A costly Guayaquil hat upon his
+head, and coat to correspond, bespoke him respectable; his _tout
+ensemble_ proclaimed him a man of leisure; while his air and bearing
+were unmistakably such as could only belong to a born gentleman.
+
+Why he was in Chihuahua, or whence he had come to it, no one seemed to
+know or care.  Enough that he was there, and gazing at the spectacular
+procession as it filed past the posada.
+
+He was regarding it with no eye of wonderment.  In all likelihood he had
+seen such before.  He could not have travelled far through Mexico
+without witnessing some ceremony of a similar kind.
+
+Whether interested in this one or no he was soon notified that he was
+not regarding it in the manner proper or customary to the country.
+Standing half behind one of the pillars of the hotel porch, he had not
+thought it necessary to take off his hat.  Perhaps placed in a more
+conspicuous position he would have done this.  Frank Hamersley--for such
+was his name--was not the sort of man to seek notoriety by an exhibition
+of bravado, and, being a Protestant of a most liberal creed, he would
+have shrunk from offending the slightest sensibilities of those
+belonging to an opposite faith--even the most bigoted Roman Catholic of
+that most bigoted land.  That his "Guayaquil" still remained upon his
+head was due to simple forgetfulness of its being there; it had not
+occurred to him to uncover.
+
+While silently standing with eyes turned towards the procession, he
+observed scowling looks, and heard low growlings from the crowd as it
+swayed slowly past.  He knew enough to be conscious of what this meant;
+but he felt at the same time disinclined to humiliate himself by a too
+facile compliance.  A proud American, in the midst of a people he had
+learned to despise--their idolatrous observances along with them--no
+wonder he should feel a little defiant and a good deal exasperated.
+Enough yielding, he thought, to withdraw farther back from behind the
+pillar, which he did.
+
+It was too late.  The keen eye of a fanatic had been upon him--one who
+appeared to have authority for meting out chastisement.  An officer,
+bearded and grandly bedizened, riding at the head of a troop of lancers,
+quickly wheeled his horse from out of the line of march, and spurred him
+towards the porch of the posada.  In another instant his bared blade was
+waving over the hatted head of the Kentuckian.
+
+"_Gringo! alto su sombrero!  Abajo! a sus rodillas_!"  ("Off with your
+hat, greenhorn!  Down upon your knees!") were the words that came
+hissing from the moustached lips of the lancer.
+
+As they failed to beget compliance, they were instantly followed by a
+blow from the blade of his sabre.  It was given sideways, but with
+sufficient sleight and force to send the Guayaquil hat whirling over the
+pavement, and its wearer reeling against the wall.
+
+It was but the stagger of a sudden and unexpected surprise.  In another
+instant the "gringo" had drawn a revolving pistol, and in yet another
+its bullet would have been through the brain of the swaggering
+aggressor, but for a third personage, who, rushing from behind, laid
+hold of the Kentuckian's arm, and restrained the firing.
+
+At first it seemed to Hamersley the act of another enemy; but in a
+moment he knew it to be the behaviour of a friend--at least a
+pacificator bent upon seeing fair play.
+
+"You are wrong, Captain Uraga," interposed he who had intermeddled,
+addressing himself to the officer.  "This gentleman is a stranger in the
+country, and not acquainted with our customs."
+
+"Then it is time the heretico should be taught them, and, at the same
+time, respect for the Holy Church.  But what right, Colonel Miranda,
+have you to interfere?"
+
+"The right, first of humanity, second of hospitality, and third that I
+am your superior officer."
+
+"Bah!  You mistake yourself.  Remember, senor coronel, you are not in
+your own district.  If it was in Albuquerque, I might take commands from
+you.  This is the city of Chihuahua."
+
+"Chihuahua or not, you shall be made answerable for this outrage.  Don't
+imagine that your patron, Santa Anna, is now Dictator, with power to
+endorse such base conduct as yours.  You seem to forget, Captain Uraga,
+that you carry your commission under a new regime--one that holds itself
+responsible, not only to fixed laws, but to the code of decency--
+responsible also for international courtesy to the great Republic of
+which, I believe, this gentleman is a citizen."
+
+"Bah!" once more exclaimed the bedizened bully.  "Preach your _palabras_
+to ears that have time to listen to them.  I shan't stop the procession
+for either you or your Yankee protege.  So you can both go to the
+devil."
+
+With this benevolent permission the captain of lancers struck the spurs
+into his horse, and once more placed himself at the head of his troop.
+The crowd collected by the exciting episode soon scattered away--the
+sooner that the strange gentleman, along with his generous defender, had
+disappeared from the portico, having gone inside the inn.
+
+The procession was still passing, and its irresistible attractions swept
+the loiterers along in its current--most of them soon forgetting a scene
+which, in that land, where "law secures not life," is of too frequent
+occurrence to be either much thought of or for long remembered.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWO.
+
+A FRIEND IN NEED.
+
+The young Kentuckian was half frenzied by the insult he had received.
+The proud blood of his republican citizenship was boiling within his
+veins.  What was he to do?
+
+In the agony of his dilemma he put the question to the gentleman who,
+beyond all doubt, had restrained him from committing manslaughter.
+
+The latter was an entire stranger to him--never seen him before.  He was
+a man of less than thirty years of age, wearing a broad-brimmed hat upon
+his head, a cloth jacket, slashed _calzoneras_, and a red crape scarf
+around his waist--in short, the _ranchero_ costume of the country.
+Still, there was a military bearing about him that corresponded to the
+title by which the lancer captain had addressed him.
+
+"Caballero," he said in reply, "if your own safety be of any consequence
+to you I should advise you to take no further notice of the incident
+that has arisen, however much it may have exasperated you, as no doubt
+it has done."
+
+"Pardon me, senor; but not for all the world would I follow your
+advice--not for my life.  I am an American--a Kentuckian.  We do not
+take blows without giving something of the same in return.  I must have
+redress."
+
+"If you seek it by the law I may as well warn you, you won't have much
+chance of finding it."
+
+"I know that.  The law!  I did not think of such a thing.  I am a
+gentleman; I suppose this Captain Uraga supposes himself to be the same,
+and will not refuse to give me the usual satisfaction."
+
+"He may refuse, and very likely will, on the plea of your being a
+stranger--only a barbarian, a _Tejano_ or _gringo_, as he has put it."
+
+"I am alone here--what am I to do?"
+
+The Kentuckian spoke half in soliloquy, his countenance expressing
+extreme chagrin.
+
+"_Fuez, senor_!" responded the Mexican colonel, "if you're determined on
+a _desafio_ I think I might arrange it.  I feel that I am myself a
+little compromised by my interference; and if you'll accept of me for
+your second, I think I can answer for it that Captain Uraga will not
+dare to deny us."
+
+"Colonel Miranda--your name, I believe--need I attempt to express my
+thanks for so much generosity?  I cannot--I could not.  You have removed
+the very difficulty that was in my way; for I am not only a stranger to
+you, but to every one around.  I arrived at Chihuahua but yesterday, and
+do not know a soul in the place."
+
+"Enough; you shall not be disappointed in your duel for the want of a
+second.  As a preliminary, may I ask if you are skilled in the use of
+the sword?"
+
+"Sufficiently to stake my life upon it."
+
+"I put the question, because that is the weapon your adversary will be
+certain to choose.  You being the challenger, of course he has the
+choice; and he will insist upon it, for a reason that may perhaps amuse
+you.  It is that we Mexican gentlemen believe you Americans somewhat
+_gauche_ in the handling of the rapier, though we know you to be adepts
+in the use of the pistol.  I take Captain Gil Uraga to be as thorough a
+poltroon as ever wore epaulettes, but he will have to meet you on my
+account; and he would perhaps have done so anyhow--trusting to the
+probability of your being a bad swordsman."
+
+"In that he may find himself disappointed."
+
+"I am glad to hear it; and now it only needs to receive your
+instructions.  I am ready to act."
+
+The instructions were given, and within two hours' time Captain Gil
+Uraga, of the Zacatecas Lancers, was in receipt of a challenge from the
+Kentuckian--Colonel Miranda being its bearer.
+
+With such a voucher the lancer officer could not do otherwise than
+accept, which he did with cooler confidence for the very reason Miranda
+had made known.  A _Tejano_, was his reflection--what should he know of
+the sword?
+
+And swords were the weapons chosen.
+
+Had the captain of Zacatecas Lancers been told that his intended
+adversary had spent a portion of his life among the Creoles of New
+Orleans, he would have been less reliant on the chances likely to turn
+up in his favour.
+
+We need not describe the duel, which, if different from other encounters
+of the kind, was by being on both sides bitter, and of deadly intent.
+Suffice it to say, that the young Kentuckian displayed a skill in
+swordsmanship sufficient to disarrange several of Gil Uraga's front
+teeth, and make an ugly gash in his cheek.  He had barely left to him
+sufficient command of his mouth to cry "Basta!" and so the affair ended.
+
+"Senor Hamersley," said the man who had so effectively befriended him,
+after they had returned from the encounter, and were drinking a bottle
+of Paso wine in the posada, "may I ask where you intend going when you
+leave Chihuahua?"
+
+"To Santa Fe, in New Mexico; thence to the United States, along with one
+of the return caravans."
+
+"When do you propose starting?"
+
+"As to that, I am not tied to time.  The train with which I am to cross
+the plains will not be going for six months to come.  I can get to Santa
+Fe by a month's travel, I suppose?"
+
+"Less than that.  It is not a question of how soon you may arrive there,
+but when you leave here.  I advise you to start at once.  I admit that
+two days is but a short time to see the sights of even so small a place
+as Chihuahua.  But you have witnessed one of them--enough, I should say.
+If you take my advice you will let it content you, and kick the
+Chihuahua-ense dust from your feet before another twenty-four hours have
+passed over your head."
+
+"But why, Colonel Miranda?"
+
+"Because so long as you remain here you will be in danger of losing your
+life.  You don't know the character of the man with whom you have
+crossed swords.  I do.  Although wearing the uniform of an officer in
+our army, he is simply a _salteador_.  A coward, as I told you, too.  He
+would never have met you if he had thought I would have given him a
+chance to get out of it.  Perhaps he might have been tempted by the
+hopes of an easy conquest from your supposed want of skill.  It would
+have given him something to boast about among the dames of Chihuahua,
+for Captain Gil deems himself no little of a lady-killer.  You have
+spoilt his physiognomy for life; and, depend upon it, as long as life
+lasts, he will neither forget nor forgive that.  I shall also come in
+for a share of his spite, and it behoves both of us to beware of him."
+
+"But what can he do to us?"
+
+"Caballero, that question shows you have not been very long in this
+country, and are yet ignorant of its customs.  In Mexico we have some
+callings not congenial to your people.  Know that stilettoes can here be
+purchased cheaply, with the arms of assassins to use them.  Do you
+understand me?"
+
+"I do.  But how do you counsel me to act?"
+
+"As I intend acting myself--take departure from Chihuahua this very day.
+Our roads are the same as far as Albuquerque, where you will be out of
+reach of this little danger.  I am returning thither from the city of
+Mexico, where I've had business with the Government.  I have an escort;
+and if you choose to avail yourself of it you'll be welcome to its
+protection."
+
+"Colonel Miranda, again I know not how to thank you.  I accept your
+friendly offer."
+
+"Reserve your thanks till I have done you some service beyond the simple
+duty of a gentleman, who sees another gentleman in a dilemma he had no
+hand in creating.  But enough, senor; we have no time to spend in
+talking.  Even now there may be a couple of poignards preparing for us.
+Get your things ready at once, as I start two hours before sunset.  In
+this sultry weather we are accustomed to travel in the cool of the
+evening."
+
+"I shall be ready."
+
+That same afternoon, two hours before the going down of the sun, a party
+of horsemen, wearing the uniform of Mexican dragoons of the line, issued
+from the _garita_ of Chihuahua, and took the northern road leading to
+Santa Fe, by El Paso del Norte.  Colonel Miranda, his ranchero dress
+changed for the fatigue uniform of a cavalry officer, was at its head,
+and by his side the stranger, whose cause he had so generously and
+gallantly espoused.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THREE.
+
+THE COLONEL COMMANDANT.
+
+Six weeks have elapsed since the day of the duel at Chihuahua.  Two men
+are standing on the _azotea_ of a large mansion-like house close to the
+town of Albuquerque, whose church spire is just visible through the
+foliage of trees that shade and surround the dwelling.  They are Colonel
+Miranda and the young Kentuckian, who has been for some time his guest;
+for the hospitality of the generous Mexican had not terminated with the
+journey from Chihuahua.  After three weeks of toilsome travel, including
+the traverse of the famed "Dead Man's Journey," he was continuing to
+extend it in his own house and his own district, of which last he was
+the military commandant, Albuquerque being at the time occupied by a
+body of troops, stationed there for defence against Indian incursions.
+
+The house on whose roof the two men stood was that in which Colonel
+Miranda had been born--the patrimonial mansion of a large estate that
+extended along the Rio del Norte, and back towards the Sierra Blanca,
+into territories almost unknown.
+
+Besides being an officer in the Mexican army, the colonel was one of the
+_ricos_ of the country.  The house, as already said, was a large,
+massive structure, having, like all Mexican dwellings of its class, a
+terraced roof, or _azotea_.  What is also common enough in that country,
+it was surmounted by a _mirador_, or "belvedere."  Standing less than
+half a mile distant from the soldier's _cuartel_, the commandant found
+it convenient to make use of it as his headquarters.  A small guard in
+the _saguan_, or covered entrance below, with a sentinel stationed
+outside the gate in front, indicated this.
+
+There was no family inside, wife, woman, or child; for the colonel,
+still a young man, was a bachelor.  Only _peons_ in the field, grooms
+and other servants around the stables, with domestics in the dwelling--
+all, male and female, being Indians of the race known as "Indios
+mansos"--brown-skinned and obedient.
+
+But though at this time there was no living lady to make her soft
+footsteps heard within the walls of the commandant's dwelling, the
+portrait of a lovely girl hung against the side of the main _sola_, and
+on this his American guest had more than once gazed in silent
+admiration.  It showed signs of having been recently painted, which was
+not strange, since it was the likeness of Colonel Miranda's sister, a
+few years younger than himself--at the time on a visit to some relatives
+in a distant part of the Republic.  Frank Hamersley's eyes never rested
+on it without his wishing the original at home.
+
+The two gentlemen upon the housetop were leisuring away the time in the
+indulgence of a cigar, watching the water-fowl that swam and plunged on
+the bosom of the broad shallow stream, listening to the hoarse croakings
+of pelicans and the shriller screams of the _guaya_ cranes.  It was the
+hour of evening, when these birds become especially stridulent.
+
+"And so you must go to-morrow, Senor Francisco?" said his host, taking
+the cigaritto from between his teeth, and looking inquiringly into the
+face of the Kentuckian.
+
+"There is no help for it, colonel.  The caravan with which I came out
+will be leaving Santa Fe the day after to-morrow, and there's just time
+for me to get there.  Unless I go along with it, there may be no other
+opportunity for months to come, and one cannot cross the plains alone."
+
+"Well, I suppose I must lose you.  I am sorry, and selfishly, too, for,
+as you see, I am somewhat lonely here.  There's not one of my officers,
+with the exception of our old _medico_, exactly of the sort to be
+companionable.  True, I have enough occupation, as you may have by this
+time discovered, in looking after our neighbours, the _Indios bravos_,
+who, knowing the skeleton of a regiment I've got, are growing saucier
+every day.  I only wish I had a score or two of your stalwart trappers,
+who now and then pay a visit to Albuquerque.  Well, my sister will soon
+be here, and she, brave girl, has plenty of life in her, though she be
+but young.  What a joyous creature she is, wild as a mustang filly fresh
+caught.  I wish, Don Francisco, you could have stayed to make her
+acquaintance.  I am sure you would be delighted with her."
+
+If the portrait on the wall was anything of a faithful likeness,
+Hamersley could not have been otherwise.  This was his reflection,
+though, for certain reasons, he did not in speech declare it.
+
+"It is to be hoped we shall meet again, Colonel Miranda," was his
+ingenious rejoinder.  "If I did not have this hope, I should now be
+parting from you with greater regret.  Indeed, I have more than a
+presentiment we shall meet again; since I've made up my mind on a
+certain thing."
+
+"On what, Don Francisco?"
+
+"On returning to New Mexico."
+
+"To settle in the country?"
+
+"Not exactly that; only for a time--long enough to enable me to dispose
+of a cargo of merchandise in exchange for a bag of your big Mexican
+dollars."
+
+"Ah! you intend to become one of the prairie merchants, then?"
+
+"I do.  That intention has been the cause of my visiting your country.
+I am old enough to think of some calling, and have always had a fancy
+for the adventurous life of the prairie trader.  As I have sufficient
+means to stock a small caravan for myself, I think now of trying it.  My
+present trip has been merely one of experiment and exploration.  I am
+satisfied with the result, and, if no accident arise, you may see me
+back on the Del Norte before either of us be twelve months older."
+
+"Then, indeed, is there a hope of our meeting again.  I am rejoiced at
+it.  But, Senor Don Francisco," continued his host, changing to a
+serious tone, "a word lest I might forget it--a word of counsel, or
+warning, I may call it.  I have observed that you are too unsuspicious,
+too regardless of danger.  It does not all lie upon the prairies, or
+among red-skinned savages.  There is as much of it here, amid the abodes
+of our so-called civilisation.  When you are travelling through this
+country bear your late antagonist in mind, and should you at any time
+meet, beware of him.  I have given you some hints about the character of
+Gil Uraga.  I have not told you all.  He is worse than you can even
+imagine.  I know him well.  Do you see that little house, out yonder on
+the other side of the river?"
+
+Hamersley nodded assent.
+
+"In that hovel he was born.  His father was what we call a _pelado_--a
+poor devil, with scarce a coat to his back.  Himself the same, but
+something worse.  He has left in his native place a record of crimes
+well known, with others more than suspected.  In short, he is, as I have
+told you, a robber.  No doubt you wonder that such a man should be an
+officer in our army.  That is because you are ignorant of the state of
+our service--our society as well.  It is but the result of constantly
+recurring changes in our political system.  Still you may feel surprise
+at his holding this commission, with the patriotic party--the pure one--
+in power, as it now is.  That might be inexplicable even to myself,
+since I know that he will be traitor to our cause when convenient to
+him.  But I also know the explanation.  There is a power, even when the
+party exercising it is not in the ascendant--an influence that works by
+sap and secrecy.  It is that of our hierarchy.  Gil Uraga is one of its
+tools, since it exactly suits his low instincts and treacherous
+training.  Whenever the day is ripe for a fresh _pronunciamento_ against
+our liberties--if we are so unfortunate as to have one--he will be
+amongst the foremost of the traitors.  _Carrai_!  I can think of him
+only with disgust and loathing.  Would you believe it, senor, that this
+fellow, now that epaulettes have been set on his shoulders--placed there
+for some vile service--has the audacity to aspire to the hand of my
+sister?  Adela Miranda standing in bridal robes by the side of Gil
+Uraga!  I would rather see her in her shroud!"
+
+Hamersley's bosom heaved up as he listened to the last words, and with
+emotion almost equalling that which excited his host.  He had just been
+thinking about the portrait upon the wall, and how beautiful the
+original must be.  Now hearing her name coupled with that of the ruffian
+whose blow he had felt, and whose blood he had spilled, he almost
+regretted not having ended that duel by killing his adversary outright.
+
+"But surely, Colonel Miranda," he said at length, "there could be no
+danger of such an event as that you speak of?"
+
+"Never, so long as I live.  But, amigo, as you have learnt, this is a
+strange land--a country of quick changes.  I am here to-day, commanding
+in this district, with power, I may almost say, over the lives of all
+around me.  To-morrow I may be a fugitive, or dead.  If the latter,
+where is she, my poor sister, going to find the arm that could protect
+her?"
+
+Again the breast of Hamersley heaved in a convulsive manner.  Strange as
+it might appear, the words of his newly-made friend seemed like an
+appeal to him.  And it is just possible some such thought was in the
+mind of the Mexican colonel.  In the strong man by his side he saw the
+type of a race who can protect; just such an oak as he would wish to see
+his sister extend her arms tendril-like around, and cling on to for
+life.
+
+Hamersley could not help having vague and varied misgivings; yet among
+them was one purpose he had already spoken of--a determination to return
+to Albuquerque.
+
+"I am sure to be back here," he said, as if the promise was meant to
+tranquillise the apprehensions of the colonel.  Then, changing to a more
+careless tone, he added,--
+
+"I cannot come by the spring caravans; there would not be time enough to
+make my arrangements.  But there is a more southern route, lately
+discovered, that can be travelled at any season.  Perhaps I may try
+that.  In any case, I shall write you by the trains leaving the States
+in the spring, so that you may know when to expect me.  And if, Colonel
+Miranda," he added, after a short reflective pause, in which his
+countenance assumed a new and graver form of expression, "if any
+political trouble, such as you speak of, should occur, and you may find
+it necessary to flee from your own land, I need not tell you that in
+mine you will find a friend and a home.  After what has happened here,
+you may depend upon the first being true, and the second hospitable,
+however humble."
+
+On that subject there was no further exchange of speech.  The two
+individuals, so oddly as accidentally introduced, flung aside the stumps
+of their cigars; and, clasping hands, stood regarding one another with
+the gaze of a sincere, unspeakable friendship.
+
+Next morning saw the Kentuckian riding away from Albuquerque towards the
+capital of New Mexico, an escort of dragoons accompanying him, sent by
+the Mexican colonel as a protection against marauding Indians.
+
+But all along the road, and for months after, he was haunted with the
+memory of that sweet face seen upon the _sola_ wall; and instead of
+laughing at himself for having fallen in love with a portrait, he but
+longed to return, and look upon its original--chafing under an
+apprehension, with which the parting words of his New Mexican host had
+painfully inspired him.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FOUR.
+
+A PRONUNCIAMENTO.
+
+A little less than a quarter of a century ago the Navajo Indians were
+the terror of the New Mexican settlements.  It was no uncommon thing for
+them to charge into the streets of a town, shoot down or spear the
+citizens, plunder the shops, and seize upon such women as they wanted,
+carrying these captives to their far-off fastnesses in the land of
+Navajoa.
+
+In the _canon_ de Chelley these savages had their headquarters, with the
+temple and _estufa_, where the sacred fire of _Moctezuma_ was never
+permitted to go out; and there, in times past, when Mexico was misruled
+by the tyrant Santa Anna, might have been seen scores of white women,
+captives to the Navajo nation, women well born and tenderly brought up,
+torn from their homes on the Rio del Norte, and forced to become the
+wives of their red-skinned captors--oftener their concubines and slaves.
+White children, too, in like manner, growing up among the children of
+their despoilers; on reaching manhood to forget all the ties of kindred,
+with the _liens_ of civilised life--in short, to be as much savages as
+those who had adopted them.
+
+At no period was this despoliation more rife than in the time of which
+we write.  It had reached its climax of horrors, day after day
+recurring, when Colonel Miranda became military commandant of the
+district of Albuquerque; until not only this town, but Santa Fe, the
+capital of the province itself, was menaced with destruction by the red
+marauders.  Not alone the Navajoes on the west, but the Apaches on the
+south, and the Comanches who peopled the plains to the east, made
+intermittent and frequent forays upon the towns and villages lying along
+the renowned Rio del Norte.  There were no longer any outlying
+settlements or isolated plantations.  The grand _haciendas_, as the
+humble _ranchos_, were alike lain in ruins.  In the walled town alone
+was there safety for the white inhabitants of Nuevo Mexico, or for those
+Indians, termed _mansos_, converted to Christianity, and leagued with
+them in the pursuits of civilisation.  And, indeed, not much safety
+either within towns--even in Albuquerque itself.
+
+Imbued with a spirit of patriotism, Colonel Miranda, in taking charge of
+the district--his native place, as already known--determined on doing
+his best to protect it from further spoliation; and for this purpose had
+appealed to the central government to give him an increase to the forces
+under his command.
+
+It came in the shape of a squadron of lancers from Chihuahua, whose
+garrison only spared them on their being replaced by a troop of like
+strength, sent on from the capital of the country.
+
+It was not very pleasant to the commandant of Albuquerque to see Captain
+Gil Uraga in command of the subsidy thus granted him.  But the lancer
+officer met him in a friendly manner, professing cordiality, apparently
+forgetful of their duelling feud, and, at least outwardly, showing the
+submission due to the difference of their rank.
+
+Engaged in frequent affairs with the Indians, and expeditions in pursuit
+of them, for a while things seemed to go smoothly enough.
+
+But as Adela Miranda had now returned home, and was residing with her
+brother, in the interludes of tranquillity he could not help having some
+concern for her.  He was well aware of Uraga's aspirations; and, though
+loathing the very sight of the man, he was, nevertheless, compelled to
+tolerate his companionship to a certain extent, and could not well deny
+him the _entree_ of his house.
+
+At first the subordinate bore himself with becoming meekness.  Mock
+humility it was, and soon so proved itself.  For, as the days passed,
+rumours reached the distant department of New Mexico that the old tyrant
+Santa Anna was again returning to power.  And, in proportion as these
+gained strength, so increased Gil Uraga's confidence in himself, till at
+length he assumed an air of effrontery--almost insolence--towards his
+superior officer; and towards the sister, in the interviews he was
+permitted with her, a manner significantly corresponding.
+
+These were few, and still less frequent, as his brusque behaviour began
+to manifest itself.  Observing it, Colonel Miranda at length came to the
+determination that the lancer captain should no longer enter into his
+house--at least, by invitation.  Any future relations between them must
+be in the strict execution of their respective military duties.
+
+"Yes, sister," he said, one afternoon, as Adela was buckling on his
+sword-belt, and helping to equip him for the evening parade, "Uraga must
+come here no more.  I well understand the cause of his contumacious
+behaviour.  The priest party is again getting the ascendency.  If they
+succeed, heaven help poor Mexico.  And, I may add, heaven help us!"
+
+Drawing the girl to his bosom with a fond affectionate embrace, he gave
+her a brother's kiss.  Then, striding forth, he sprang upon a saddled
+horse held in waiting, and rode off to parade his troops on the _plaza_
+of Albuquerque.
+
+A ten minutes' trot brought him into their presence.  They were not
+drawn up in line, or other formation, to receive him.  On the contrary,
+as he approached the _cuartel_, he saw strange sights, and heard sounds
+corresponding.  Everything was in confusion--soldiers rushing to and
+fro, uttering seditious cries.  Among these were "Viva Santa Anna!"
+
+"Viva el General Armijo!"
+
+"Viva el _Coronel_ Uraga!"
+
+Beyond doubt it was a _pronunciamento_.  The old regime under which
+Colonel Miranda held authority was passing away, and a new one about to
+be initiated.
+
+Drawing his sword and putting spur to his horse, he dashed in among the
+disaffected men.
+
+A few of the faithful ran up, and ranged themselves by his side.
+
+Then commenced a struggle, with shouting, shooting, sabring, and
+lance-thrusts.  Several fell--some dead, some only disabled; among the
+last, Colonel Miranda himself, gravely wounded.
+
+In ten minutes it was all over; and the commandant of Albuquerque, no
+longer commanding, lay lodged in the garrison _carcel_; Captain Gil
+Uraga, now colonel, replacing him as the supreme military officer of the
+district.
+
+While all around ran the rumour that Don Antonio Lopes de Santa Anna was
+once more master of Mexico; his satellite, Manuel Armijo, again Governor
+of Santa Fe.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIVE.
+
+"WHY COMES HE NOT?"
+
+"What delays Valerian?  What can be keeping him?"
+
+These questions came from Adela Miranda, on the evening of that same
+day, standing in the door of her brother's house, with eyes bent along
+the road leading to Albuquerque.  Valerian was her brother's baptismal
+name, and it was about his absence she was anxious.
+
+For this she had reasons--more than one.  Though still only a young
+girl, she quite understood the political situation of the Mexican
+Republic; at all times shifting, of late more critical than usual.  In
+her brother's confidence, she had been kept posted up in all that
+transpired in the capital, as also the district over which he held
+military command, and knew the danger of which he was himself
+apprehensive--every day drawing nigher and nigher.
+
+Shortly after his leaving her she had heard shots, with a distant murmur
+of voices, in the direction of the town.  From the _azolea_, to which
+she had ascended, she could note these noises more distinctly, but
+fancied them to be salutes, vivas, and cheers.  Still, there was nothing
+much in that.  It might be some jubilation of the soldiery at the
+ordinary evening parade; and, remembering that the day was a _fiesta_,
+she thought less of it.
+
+But, as night drew down, and her brother had not returned, she began to
+feel some slight apprehension.  He had promised to be back for a dinner
+that was long since due--a repast she had herself prepared, more
+sumptuous than common on account of the saint's day.  This was it that
+elicited the anxious self-asked interrogatories.
+
+After giving utterance to them, she paced backward and forward; now
+standing in the portal and gazing along the road; now returning to the
+_sola de comida_, to look upon the table, with cloth spread, wines
+decantered, fruits and flowers on the epergne--all but the dishes that
+waited serving till Valerian should show himself.
+
+To look on something besides--a portrait that hung upon the wall,
+underneath her own.  It was a small thing--a mere photographic
+carte-de-visite.  But it was the likeness of one who had a large place
+in her brother's heart, if not in her own.  In hers, how could it?  It
+was the photograph of a man she had never seen--Frank Hamersley.  He had
+left it with Colonel Miranda, as a souvenir of their short but friendly
+intercourse.
+
+Did Colonel Miranda's sister regard it in that light?  She could not in
+any other.  Still, as she gazed upon it, a thought was passing through
+her mind somewhat different from a sentiment of simple friendship.  Her
+brother had told her all--the circumstances that led to his acquaintance
+with Hamersley; of the duel, and in what a knightly manner the
+Kentuckian had carried himself; adding his own commentaries in a very
+flattering fashion.  This, of itself, had been enough to pique curiosity
+in a young girl, just escaped from her convent school; but added to the
+outward semblance of the stranger, by the sun made lustrous--so lustrous
+inwardly--Adela Miranda was moved by something more than curiosity.  As
+she stood regarding the likeness of Frank Hamersley she felt very much
+as he had done looking at hers--in love with one only known by portrait
+and repute.
+
+In such there is nothing strange nor new.  Many a reader of this tale
+could speak of a similar experience.
+
+While gazing on the carte-de-visite she was roused from the sweet
+reverie it had called up by hearing footsteps outside.  Someone coming
+in through the _saggan_.
+
+"Valerian at last!"
+
+The steps sounded as if the man making them were in a hurry.  So should
+her brother be, having so long delayed his return.
+
+She glided out to meet him with an interrogatory on her lips.
+
+"Valerian?"--this suddenly changing to the exclamation, "_Madre de
+Dios_!  'Tis not my brother!"
+
+It was not, but a man pale and breathless--a _peon_ of the
+establishment--who, on seeing her, gasped out,--
+
+"Senorita!  I bring sad news.  There's been a mutiny at the cuartel--a
+_pronunciamento_.  The rebels have had it all their own way, and I am
+sorry to tell you that the colonel, your brother--"
+
+"What of him?  Speak!  Is he--"
+
+"Not killed, _nina_; only wounded, and a prisoner."
+
+Adela Miranda did not swoon nor faint.  She was not of the nervous kind.
+Nurtured amid dangers, most of her life accustomed to alarms from
+Indian incursions, as well as revolutionary risings, she remained calm.
+
+She dispatched messengers to the town, secretly, one after another; and,
+while awaiting their reports, knelt before an image of the Virgin, and
+prayed.
+
+Up till midnight her couriers went, and came.  Then one who was more
+than a messenger--her brother himself!
+
+As already reported to her, he was wounded, and came accompanied by the
+surgeon of the garrison, a friend.  They arrived at the house in hot
+haste, as if pursued.
+
+And they were so, as she soon after learnt.
+
+There was just time for Colonel Miranda to select the most cherished of
+his _penates_; pack them on a _recua_ of mules, then mount, and make
+away.
+
+They had scarce cleared the premises when the myrmidons of the new
+commandant, led by the man himself, rode up and took possession of the
+place.
+
+By this time, and by good luck, the ruffian was intoxicated--so drunk he
+could scarce comprehend what was passing around him.  It seemed like a
+dream to him to be told that Colonel Miranda had got clear away; a more
+horrid one to hear that she whom he designed for a victim had escaped
+from his clutches.
+
+When morning dawned, and in soberer mood he listened to the reports of
+those sent in pursuit--all telling the same tale of non-success--he
+raved like one in a frenzy of madness.  For the escape of the late
+Commandant of Albuquerque had robbed him of two things--to him the
+sweetest in life--one, revenge on the man he heartily hated; the other,
+possession of the woman he passionately loved.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIX.
+
+SURROUNDED.
+
+A plain of pure sand, glaring red-yellow under the first rays of the
+rising sun; towards the east and west apparently illimitable, but
+interrupted northward by a chain of table-topped hills, and along its
+southern edge by a continuous cliff, rising wall-like to the height of
+several hundred feet, and trending each way beyond the verge of vision.
+
+About half-distance between this prolonged escarpment and the outlying
+hills six large "Conestoga" waggons, locked tongue and tail together,
+enclosing a lozenge-shaped or elliptical space--a _corral_--inside which
+are fifteen men and five horses.
+
+Only ten of the men are living; the other five are dead, their bodies
+lying a-stretch between the wheels of the waggons.  Three of the horses
+have succumbed to the same fate.
+
+Outside are many dead mules; several still attached to the protruding
+poles, that have broken as their bodies fell crashing across them.
+Fragments of leather straps and cast gearing tell of others that have
+torn loose, and scoured off from the perilous spot.
+
+Inside and all around are traces of a struggle--the ground scored and
+furrowed by the hoofs of horses, and the booted feet of men, with here
+and there little rivulets and pools of blood.  This, fast filtering into
+the sand, shows freshly spilled--some of it still smoking.
+
+All the signs tell of recent conflict.  And so should they, since it is
+still going on, or only suspended to recommence a new scene of the
+strife, which promises to be yet more terrible and sanguinary than that
+already terminated.
+
+A tragedy easy of explanation.  There is no question about why the
+waggons have been stopped, or how the men, mules, and horses came to be
+killed.  Distant about three hundred yards upon the sandy plain are
+other men and horses, to the number of near two hundred.  Their
+half-naked bodies of bronze colour, fantastically marked with devices in
+chalk-white, charcoal-black, and vermillion red--their buckskin
+breech-clouts and leggings, with plumes sticking tuft-like above their
+crowns--all these insignia show them to be Indians.
+
+It is a predatory band of the red pirates, who have attacked a
+travelling party of whites--no new spectacle on the prairies.
+
+They have made the first onslaught, which was intended to stampede the
+caravan, and at once capture it.  This was done before daybreak.  Foiled
+in the attempt, they are now laying siege to it, having surrounded it on
+all sides at a distance just beyond range of the rifles of those
+besieged.  Their line forms the circumference of a circle of which the
+waggon clump is the centre.  It is not very regularly preserved, but
+ever changing, ever in motion, like some vast constricting serpent that
+has thrown its body into a grand coil around its victim, to close when
+ready to give the fatal squeeze.
+
+In this case the victim appears to have no hope of escape--no
+alternative but to succumb.
+
+That the men sheltered behind the waggons have not "gone under" at the
+first onslaught is significative of their character.  Of a surety they
+are not common emigrants, crossing the prairies on their way to a new
+home.  Had they been so, they could not have "corralled" their unwieldy
+vehicles with such promptitude; for they had started from their night
+camp, and the attack was made while the train was in motion--advantage
+being taken of their slow drag through the soft, yielding sand.  And had
+they been but ordinary emigrants they would not have stood so stoutly on
+the defence, and shown such an array of dead enemies around them.  For
+among the savages outside can be seen at least a score of lifeless forms
+lying prostrate upon the plain.
+
+For the time, there is a suspension of hostilities.  The red men,
+disappointed by the failure of their first charge, have retreated back
+to a safe distance.  The death-dealing bullets of the whites, of which
+they have had fatal proof, hold them there.
+
+But the pause is not likely to be for long, as their gestures indicate.
+On one side of the circle a body of them clumped together hold counsel.
+Others gallop around it, bearing orders and instructions that evidently
+relate to a changed plan of attack.  With so much blood before their
+eyes, and the bodies of their slain comrades, it is not likely they will
+retire from the ground.  In their shouts there is a ring of resolved
+vengeance, which promises a speedy renewal of the attack.
+
+"Who do you think they are?" asks Frank Hamersley, the proprietor of the
+assaulted caravan.  "Are they Comanches, Walt?"
+
+"Yis, Kimanch," answers the individual thus addressed; "an' the wust
+kind o' Kimanch.  They're a band o' the cowardly Tenawas.  I kin tell by
+thar bows.  Don't ye see that thar's two bends in 'em?"
+
+"I do."
+
+"Wal, that's the sort o' bow the Tenawas carry--same's the Apash."
+
+"The Indians on this route were reported friendly.  Why have they
+attacked us, I wonder?"
+
+"Injuns ain't niver friendly--not Tenawas.  They've been riled
+considerably of late by the Texans on the Trinity.  Besides, I reck'n I
+kin guess another reezun.  It's owin' to some whites as crossed this way
+last year.  Thar war a scrimmage atween them and the redskins, in the
+which some squaws got kilt--I mout say murdered.  Thar war some Mexikins
+along wi' the whites, an' it war them that did it.  An' now we've got to
+pay for their cussed crooked conduk."
+
+"What's best for us to do?"
+
+"Thar's no best, I'm afeerd.  I kin see no chance 'cept to fight it out
+to the bitter eend.  Thar's no mercy in them yells--ne'er a morsel o'
+it."
+
+"What do they intend doing next, think you?"
+
+"Jest yet 'taint easy to tell.  Thar's somethin' on foot among 'em--some
+darned Injun trick.  Clar as I kin see, that big chief wi' the red cross
+on his ribs, air him they call the Horned Lizard; an' ef it be, thar
+ain't a cunniner coon on all this contynent.  He's sharp enough to
+contrive some tight trap for us.  The dose we've gin the skunks may keep
+'em off for a while--not long, I reck'n.  Darnation!  Thar's five o' our
+fellows wiped out already.  It looks ugly, an' like enuf we've all got
+to go under."
+
+"Don't you think our best way will be to make a dash for it, and try to
+cut through them.  If we stay here they'll starve us out.  We haven't
+water enough in the waggons to give us a drink apiece."
+
+"I know all that, an' hev thort o' 't.  But you forget about our hosses.
+Thar's only two left alive--yours and myen.  All the rest air shot or
+stampedoed.  Thurfor, but two o' us would stand a chance o' gettin'
+clar, an' it slim enough."
+
+"You are right, Walt; I did not think of that I won't forsake the men,
+even if assured of my own safety--never!"
+
+"Nobody as knows you, Frank Hamersley, need be tolt that."
+
+"Boys!" cries out Hamersley, in a voice that can be heard all through
+the corral; "I needn't tell you that we're in a fix, and a bad one.
+There's no help for us but to fight it out.  And if we must die, let us
+die together."
+
+A response from eight voices coming from different sides--for those
+watching the movements of the enemy are posted round the enclosure--
+tells there is not a craven among them.  Though only teamsters, they are
+truly courageous men--most of them natives of Kentucky and Tennessee.
+
+"In any case," continues the owner of the caravan, "we must hold our
+ground till night.  In the darkness there may be some chance of our
+being able to steal past them."
+
+These words have scarce passed the lips of the young prairie merchant,
+when their effect is counteracted by an exclamation.  It comes from Walt
+Wilder, who has been acting as guide to the party.
+
+"Dog-goned!" he cries; "not the shadder o' a chance.  They ain't goin'
+to give us till night.  I knewed the Horned Lizard 'ud be after some
+trick."
+
+"What?" inquire several voices.
+
+"Look whar that lot's stannin' out yonder.  Can't ye guess what they're
+at, Frank Hamersley?"
+
+"No.  I only see that they have bows in their hands."
+
+"An' arrers, too.  Don't you obsarve them wroppin' somethin' round the
+heads o' the arrers--looks like bits o' rags?  Aye, rags it air, sopped
+in spittles and powder.  They're agoin' to set the waggons afire!  They
+air, by God!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVEN.
+
+FIERY MESSENGERS.
+
+The teamsters, each of whom is watching the post assigned to him,
+despite the danger, already extreme, see fresh cause of alarm in
+Wilder's words.  Some slight hope had hitherto upheld them.  Under the
+protection of the waggons they might sustain a siege, so long as their
+ammunition lasts; and before it gave out some chance, though they cannot
+think what, might turn up in their favour.  It was a mere reflection
+founded on probabilities still unscrutinised--the last tenacious
+struggle before hope gives way to utter and palpable despair.
+Hamersley's words had for an instant cheered them; for the thought of
+the Indians setting fire to the waggons had not occurred to any of the
+party.  It was a thing unknown to their experience; and, at such a
+distance, might be supposed impossible.
+
+But, as they now look around them, and note the canvas tilts, and light
+timbers, dry as chips from long exposure to the hot prairie sun; the
+piles of dry goods--woollen blankets, cotton, and silk stuffs--intended
+for the stores of Chihuahua, some of which they have hastily pulled from
+their places to form protecting barricades--when they see all this, and
+then the preparations the Indians are engaged in making, no wonder that
+they feel dismay on Walt Wilder shouting out, "They're agoin' to set the
+waggons afire!"
+
+The announcement, although carrying alarm, conveys no counsel.  Even
+their guide, with a life-long experience on the prairies, is at a loss
+how they ought to act in this unexpected emergency.  In the waggons
+water there is none--at least not enough to drown out a conflagration
+such as that threatened; and from the way the assailants are gesturing
+the traders can predict that ere long, a shower of fiery shafts will be
+sent into their midst.  None of them but have knowledge sufficient to
+admonish them of what is intended.  Even if they had never set foot upon
+a prairie, their school stories and legends of early life would tell
+them.  They have all read, or heard, of arrows with tinder tied around
+their barbs, on fire and spitting sparks, or brightly ablaze.
+
+If any are ignorant of this sort of missile, or the mode of dispatching
+it on its mischievous errand, their ignorance is not destined longer to
+continue.  Almost as soon as Wilder has given utterance to the warning
+words, half a score of the savages can be seen springing to the backs of
+their horses, each bearing a bow with a bunch of the prepared arrows.
+And before a single preventive step can be taken by the besieged
+traders, or any counsel exchanged between them, the pyrotechnic display
+has commenced.
+
+The bowmen gallop in circles around the besieged enclosure, their bodies
+concealed behind those of their horses--only a leg and an arm seen, or
+now and then a face for an instant, soon withdrawn.  Not exactly in
+circles but in spiral rings--at each turn drawing closer and nearer,
+till the true distance is attained for casting the inflammatory shafts.
+
+"Stand to your guns, men!" is the hurried command of the guide, backed
+by a kind of encouragement from the proprietor of the caravan.
+
+"Now, boys!" adds the guide, "ye've got to look out for squalls.  Keep
+two an' two of ye thegither.  While one brings down the hoss, t' other
+take care o' the rider as he gits unkivered.  Make sure afore ye pull
+trigger, an' don't waste so much as the snappin' o' a cap.  Thar goes
+the first o' the fire works!"
+
+As Wilder speaks, a spark is seen to shoot out from one of the circling
+cavaliers, which rising rocket-like into the air, comes in parabolic
+curve towards the corral.
+
+It falls short some twenty yards and lies smoking and sputtering in the
+sand.
+
+"They han't got thar range yit," cries the guide; "but this child hez
+got his--leastwise for that skunk on the clay-bank mustang.  So hyar
+goes to rub him off o' the list o' fire shooters."
+
+And simultaneous with the last word is heard the crack of Wilder's
+rifle.
+
+The young prairie merchant by his side, supposing him to have aimed only
+at the Indian's horse, has raised his own gun, ready to take the rider
+as soon as uncovered.
+
+"No need, Frank," shouts the guide, restraining him.  "Walt Wilder don't
+waste two charges o' powder that way.  Keep yur bullet for the karkidge
+o' the next as comes 'ithin range.  Look yonder!  I know'd I'd fetch him
+out o' his stirrups--tight as he's tried to cling to 'em.  Thar he goes
+to grass!"
+
+Hamersley, as the others on the same side of the corral, were under the
+belief that the shot had been a miss; for the Indian at whom it was
+aimed still stuck to his horse, and was carried for some distance on in
+curving career.  Nor did the animal show any sign of having been hit.
+But the rider did.  While engaged in the effort of sending his arrow,
+the savage had exposed his face, one arm, and part of the other.  Ere he
+could withdraw them, Walt's bullet had struck the arm that supported
+him, breaking the bone close to the elbow-joint.  He has clung on with
+the tenacity of a shot squirrel, knowing that to let go will be certain
+death to him.  But, despite all his efforts, the crippled arm fails to
+sustain him; and, with a despairing cry, he at length tumbles to the
+ground.  Before he can rise to his feet, his body is bored by a leaden
+messenger from one of the men watching on that side, which lays him
+lifeless along the sand.
+
+No cheer of triumph ascends from among the waggons; the situation of
+those who defend them is too serious for any idle exhibition.  The man
+who has fired the last shot only hastens to re-load, while the others
+remain mute and motionless--each on the look-out for a like opportunity.
+
+The fall of their comrade has taught the freebooters a lesson, and for a
+time they make their approach with more caution.  But the shouts of
+those standing spectators in the outer circle stimulate them to fresh
+efforts, as the slightest show of cowardice would surely cause them to
+be taunted.  Those entrusted with the fiery arrows are all young
+warriors, chosen for this dangerous service, or volunteers to perform
+it.  The eyes of their chief, and the braves of the tribe, are upon
+them.  They are thirsting for glory, and hold their lives as of little
+account, in the face of an achievement that will gain them the
+distinction most coveted by an Indian youth--that which will give him
+rank as a warrior, and perhaps some day raise him to a chieftaincy.
+
+Stimulated by this thought, they soon forget the check caused by the
+fall of their comrade; and, laying aside caution, ride nearer and
+nearer, till their arrows, one after another, hurtle through the air,
+and dropping like a continuous shower of spent rocket-sticks upon the
+covers of the corralled waggons.
+
+Several of them fall to shots from the barricade, but then places are
+supplied by fresh volunteers from the outer circle; and the sparkling
+shower is kept up, till a curl of smoke is seen soaring above the white
+tilts of the waggons, and soon after others at different places and on
+different sides of the enclosure.
+
+As yet the besieged have not seen this.  The powder-smoke puffing up
+from their own guns, discharged in quick repetition, obscures everything
+in a thick, sulphurous cloud; so that even the white covers of the
+waggons are scarce distinguishable, much less the spots where it has
+commenced smoking.
+
+Not long, however, till something besides smoke makes itself visible, as
+also audible.  Here and there flames flicker up, with a sharp crackling
+noise, which continues.  The one is not flashes from the guns, nor the
+other a snapping of percussion-caps.
+
+Wilder, with eyes turning to all points, is the first to perceive this.
+
+"We're on fire, boys!" he vociferates; "on fire everywhar!"
+
+"Great God! yes!  What are we to do?" several ask, despairingly.
+
+"What air we to do?" shouts the guide, in response.  "What kin we do,
+but fight it out to the death, an' then die!  So let us die, not like
+dogs, but as men--as Americans!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER EIGHT.
+
+KNIFE, PISTOL, AND HATCHET.
+
+The brave words had scarce passed from Walt Wilder's lips when the
+waggons became enveloped in a cloud of smoke.  From all sides it rolled
+into the corral till those inside could no longer see one another.
+
+Still through the obscurity rang their cries of mutual encouragement,
+repeating the determination so tersely expressed.
+
+They knew they had no water by which to extinguish the fast-threatening
+flames; yet in that moment of emergency they thought of an expedient.
+There were shovels in the waggons; and laying hold of these, they
+commenced flinging sand over the places that had caught fire, with the
+intent to smother the incipient blaze.  Left alone, and with time, they
+might have succeeded.  But they were not left alone, for the savages,
+seeing the advantage they had gained, were now fast closing for a final
+charge upon the corral, and the implements of industry had to be
+abandoned.
+
+These were thrown despairingly aside; and the besieged, once more
+grasping their rifles, sprang back into the waggons--each with eager eye
+searching for an assailant.  Though themselves half blinded by the
+smoke, they could still see the enemy outside; for the Indians, grown
+confident by the _coup_ they had made, were now riding recklessly near.
+Quick came the reports of rifles--faster and more frequent than ever;
+fast as ten men, all practised marksmen, could load and fire.  In less
+than sixty seconds nearly a score of savages dropped to the
+death-dealing bullets, till the plain appeared strewn with dead bodies.
+
+But the crisis had come--the time for a general charge of the whole
+band; and now the dusky outside ring was seen gradually contracting
+towards the corral--the savages advancing from all sides, some on foot,
+others on horseback, all eager to secure the trophy of a scalp.
+
+On they came, violently gesticulating, and uttering wild vengeful
+shouts.
+
+With the besieged it was a moment for despair.  The waggons were on fire
+all around them, and in several places flames were beginning to flicker
+up through the smoke.  They no longer thought of making any attempt to
+extinguish them.  They knew it would be idle.
+
+Did they think of surrender?  No--not a man of them.  That would have
+been equally idle.  In the voices of the advancing foe there was not an
+accent of mercy.
+
+Surrender!  And be slain afterwards!  Before which to be tortured,
+perhaps dragged at the horse's tail, or set up as a target for the
+Tenawa sharpshooters to practise at.  No!  They would have to die
+anyhow.  Better now than then.  They were not the men to offer both
+cheeks to the insulter.  They could resign sweet life, but death would
+be all the sweeter with corpses of Indians lying thickly around them.
+They would first make a hecatomb of their hated foes, and then fall upon
+it.  That is the sort of death preferred by the prairie man--hunter,
+trapper, or trader--glorious to him as the cannon-furrowed field to the
+soldier.  That is the sort of death of which Walt Wilder spoke when he
+said, "Let us die, not like dogs, but as men--as Americans!"
+
+By this time the smoke had completely enveloped the waggons, the
+enclosed space between, and a fringe of some considerable width around
+them.  But a still darker ring was all around--the circle of savage
+horsemen, who from all sides were galloping up and dismounting to make
+surer work of the slaughter.  The warriors jostled one another as they
+pressed forward afoot, each thirsting for a scalp.
+
+The last throe of the conflict had come.  It was no longer to be a duel
+at a distance--no more a contest between rifle-bullets and barbed
+arrows; but the close, desperate, hand-to-hand contest of pistol, knife,
+spear, club, and hatchet.
+
+The ten white men--none of them yet _hors de combat_--knew well what was
+before them.  Not one of them blanched or talked of backing.  They did
+not even think of surrender.  It would have been too late to sue for
+mercy, had they been so inclined.
+
+But they were not.  Attacked without provocation, and treacherously, as
+they had been, their fury was stronger than their fear; and anger now
+nerved them to frenzied energy of action.
+
+The savages had already closed around the waggons, clustering upon the
+wheels, some like snakes, wriggling through the spaces left undefended.
+Rifles ceased to ring; but pistols cracked--repeating pistols, that
+dealt death at every shot, sending redskin after redskin to the happy
+hunting grounds.  And by the pistol's flash blades were seen gleaming
+through the smoke--now bright, anon dimmed, and dripping blood.
+
+For every white man that fell, at least three red ones went down upon
+the sand.
+
+The unequal contest could not long continue.  Scarce ten minutes did it
+last, and but for the obscuring smoke five would have finished it.  This
+was in favour of the assailed, enabling them to act with advantage
+against the assailants.  Such a quick, wholesale slaughter did the white
+men make with their revolvers that the savages, surprised and staggered
+by it, for a moment recoiled, and appeared as if again going to retreat.
+
+They did not--they dared not.  Their superior numbers--the shame of
+being defeated by such a handful of foes--the glory of conquest--and,
+added to it, an angry vengeance now hot in their hearts--all urged them
+on; and the attack was renewed with greater earnestness than ever.
+
+Throughout every scene in the strife Frank Hamersley had comported
+himself with a courage that made his men feel less fear of death, and
+less regret to die by his side.  Fighting like a lion, he had been here,
+and there, and everywhere.  He had done his full share of slaving.
+
+It was all in vain.  Though standing in the midst of thick smoke,
+unseeing and unseen, he knew that most of his faithful men had fallen.
+He was admonished of this by their less frequent responses to his cries
+of encouragement, telling him the struggle was close upon its
+termination.  No wonder his fury was fast giving place to despair.  But
+it was no craven fear, nor any thought of escape.  His determination not
+to be taken alive was strong as ever.
+
+His hand still firmly clasped his bowie-knife, its blade dripping with
+the blood of more than one enemy; for into the body of more than one had
+he plunged it.  He clutched it with the determination still farther to
+kill--to take yet another life before parting with his own.
+
+It was hopeless, useless slaughter; but it was sweet.  Almost insane
+with anger, he thought it sweet.
+
+Three dusky antagonists lay dead at his feet, and he was rushing across
+the corral in search of a fourth.  A giant figure loomed up before him,
+looking more gigantic from the magnifying effect of the smoke.  It was
+not that of a savage; it was Walt Wilder.
+
+"Dead beat!" hoarsely and hurriedly muttered the guide.  "We must go
+under, Frank.  We're boun' to go under, if we don't--"
+
+"Don't what, Walt?"
+
+"Git away from hyar."
+
+"Impossible."
+
+"No.  Thar's still a chance, I think--for us two anyways.  There ain't
+many o' the others left, an' ef thar war, we can't do 'em any good now.
+Our stayin' 'ud be no use--no use dyin' along wi' 'em; while ef we get
+clar, we mout live to revenge 'em.  Don't ye see our two horses are
+still safe?  Thar they air, cowerin' clost in agin one o' the waggons.
+'Tain't much kit?  I admit; still thar's a shadder.  Come, Frank, and
+let's try it."
+
+Hamersley hesitated.  It was at thought of deserting even the last of
+his faithful followers, who had sacrificed, or were still sacrificing,
+their lives in his service.  But, as the guide had truly said what good
+could he do them by staying and getting killed?  And he might survive to
+avenge them!
+
+The last reflection would have decided him!  But Wilder had not waited
+for him to determine.  While speaking the urgent words, he laid his huge
+hand upon Hamersley's shoulder and half led, half dragged him in the
+direction of the horses.  "Keep hold o' yur rifle, though it air empty,"
+hurriedly counselled the guide.  "If we shed get away, it will be
+needed.  We mout as well go under hyar as be upon the pararira without a
+gun.  Now mount!"
+
+Almost mechanically the young Kentuckian climbed upon the back of the
+horse nearest to him--his own.  The guide had not yet mounted his; but,
+as could be seen through the smoke, was leaning against the wheel of one
+of the waggons.  In an instant after Hamersley perceived that the
+vehicle was in motion, and could hear a slight grating noise as the tire
+turned in the sand.  The great Conestoga, with its load had yielded to
+the strength of the Colossus.
+
+In another instant he had sprung upon his horse's back and riding close
+to Hamersley, muttered in his ear, "Now I've opened a crack atween two
+o' the wehicles.  Let's cut out through it.  We kin keep in the kiver o'
+the smoke as far as it'll screen us.  You foller, an' see that ye don't
+lose sight o' me.  If we must go under in the eend, let it be out on the
+open plain, an' not shut up hyar like badgers in a barr'l.  Follow me
+clost, Frank.  Now or niver!"
+
+Almost mechanically the young Kentuckian yielded obedience; and in ten
+seconds after the two horsemen had cleared the waggon clump, with the
+shouting crowd that encircled it and were going at full gallop across
+the sand-strewn plain.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER NINE.
+
+QUARRELLING OVER SCALPS.
+
+Nearly simultaneous with the departure of the two horsemen came the
+closing scene of the conflict.  Indeed it ended on the instant of their
+riding off.  For of their comrades left behind there was not one upon
+his feet--not one able to fire another shot, or strike another blow.
+All lay dead, or wounded, among the waggons; some of the dead, as the
+wounded, clasping the handle of a knife whose blade reeked with blood,
+or a pistol from whose muzzle the smoke was still oozing.
+
+But soon among the whites there were no wounded, for the hovering host,
+having closed in from all sides, leaped from their horses, swarmed over
+the barrier between, tomahawking the last that showed signs of life, or
+thrusting them with their long lances, and pinning them to the sand.
+Through the body of every white man at least a half-dozen spear-blades
+were passed, while a like number of savages stood exultingly over, or
+danced triumphantly around it.
+
+And now ensued a scene that might be symbolised only among wild beasts
+or fiends in the infernal regions.  It was a contest for possession of
+the scalps of those who had fallen--each of the victors claiming one.
+Some stood with bared blades ready to peel them off, while others held
+out hands and weapons to prevent it.  From the lips of the competitors
+came shouts and expostulations, while their eyes flashed fire, and their
+arms rose and fell in furious gesticulations.
+
+Amidst their demoniac jargon could be heard a voice louder than all,
+thundering forth a command.  It was to desist from their threatening
+strife and extinguish the flames that still flared up over the waggons.
+He who spoke was the one with the red cross upon his breast, its bars of
+bright vermilion gleaming like fire against the sombre background of his
+skin.  He was the chief of the Tenawa Comanches--the Horned Lizard--as
+Wilder had justly conjectured.
+
+And as their chief he was instantly obeyed.  The wranglers, one and all,
+promptly suspended their disputes; and flinging their weapons aside, at
+once set to carrying out his orders.
+
+Seizing upon the shovels, late dropped from the hands of their now
+lifeless antagonists, and plying them to better purpose, they soon
+smothered the flame, and the smoke too, till only a thin drift stole up
+through the sand thrown thickly over it.
+
+Meanwhile a man, in appearance somewhat differing from the rest, was
+seen moving among them.
+
+Indian in garb and guise, savage in his accoutrements, as the colour of
+his skin, he nevertheless, showed features more resembling races that
+are civilised.  His countenance was of a cast apparently Caucasian, its
+lineaments unlike those of the American aboriginal; above all, unlike in
+his having a heavy beard, growing well forward upon his cheeks, and
+bushing down below the chin.
+
+True, that among the Comanche Indians bearded men are occasionally met
+with--_mestizos_, the descendants of renegade whites.  But none paraded
+as he, who now appeared stalking around the ruined caravan.  And there
+was another individual by his side, who had also hair upon his cheeks,
+though thinner and more straggling; while the speech passing between the
+two was not the guttural tongue of the Tenawa Comanches, but pure
+Mexican Spanish.
+
+Both were on foot, having dismounted; he with the heavy beard leading,
+the other keeping after as if in attendance.
+
+The former flitted from one to another of those who lay slain; in turn
+stooping over each corpse, and scrutinising it--to some giving but a
+cursory glance, to others more careful examination--then leaving each
+with an air of disappointment, and a corresponding exclamation.
+
+At length, after going the complete round of the dead, he faced towards
+his satellite, saying,--
+
+"_Por dios_! he don't appear to be among them!  What can it mean?  There
+could be no doubt of his intention to accompany the caravan.  Here it
+is, and here we are; but where is he?  _Carajo_!  If he has escaped me,
+I shall feel as if I'd had all this trouble for nothing."
+
+"Think of the precious plunder," rejoined the other.  "These grand
+_carretas_ are loaded with rich goods.  Surely they don't count for
+nothing."
+
+"A fig for the goods!  I'd give more for his scalp than all the silks
+and satins that were ever carried to Santa Fe.  Not that I'd care to
+keep such a trifle.  The Horned Lizard will be welcome to it, soon as I
+see it stripped from his skull.  That's what I want to see.  But where
+is it?  Where is he?  Certainly not among these.  There isn't one of
+them the least like him.  Surely it must be his party, spoken of in his
+letter?  No other has been heard of coming by this route.  There they
+lie, all stark and staring--men, mules, and horses--all but him."
+
+The smoke has thinned off, only a thin film still wafting about the
+waggons, whose canvas tilts, now consumed, expose their contents--some
+of them badly burnt, some but slightly scorched.  The freebooters have
+commenced to drag out boxes and bales, their chief by a stern command
+having restrained them from returning to take the scalps of the slain.
+All has been the work of only a few moments--less than ten minutes of
+time--for it is scarce so much since Wilder and Hamersley, stealing out
+between the wheels, rode off under cover of the cloud.
+
+By this he with the beard, speaking Spanish, has ceased to scrutinise
+the corpses, and stands facing his inferior, his countenance showing an
+air of puzzled disappointment, as proclaimed by his repeated speeches.
+
+Once again he gives speech to his perplexity, exclaiming:
+
+"_Demonios_!  I don't understand it.  Is it possible that any of them
+can have got away?"
+
+As he puts the question there comes a shout from outside, seeming to
+answer it.  For it is a cry half in lamentation--a sort of wail,
+altogether unlike the charging war-whoop of the Comanches.  Acquainted
+with their signals, he knows that the one he has heard tells of an enemy
+trying to escape.
+
+Hurrying outside the corral, he sees two mounted men, nearly a mile off,
+making in the direction of the cliffs.  And nearer, a score of other
+men, in the act of mounting, these being Indians, who have just caught
+sight of the fugitives, and are starting to pursue.
+
+More eager than any, he rushes direct to his horse, and, having reached,
+bestrides him at a spring.  Then, plunging deep the spur, he dashed off
+across the plain towards the point where the two men are seen making
+away.  Who both may be he knows not, nor of one need he care; but of one
+he does, feeling sure it is the same for whom he has been searching
+among the slain.
+
+"Not dead yet, but soon shall be!"
+
+So mutters he, as with clenched teeth, bridle tight-drawn, and fingers
+firmly clasping the butt of a double-barrelled pistol, he spurs on after
+the two horsemen, who, heading straight for the cliff, seem as if they
+had no chance to escape; for their pursuers are closing after them in a
+cloud, dark as the dreaded "norther" that sweeps over the Texan desert,
+with shout symbolising the clangour that accompanies it.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TEN.
+
+A BRAVE STEED ABANDONED.
+
+In making his bold dash, Walt Wilder was not acting without a
+preconceived plan.  He had one.  The smoke, with its covering cloud,
+might be the means of concealment, and ultimate salvation; at all
+events, it would cover their retreat long enough to give them a start of
+the pursuers, and then the speed of their horses might possibly be
+depended upon for the rest.
+
+They at first followed this plan, but unfortunately soon found that it
+would not long avail them.  The smoke was not drifting in the right
+direction.  The breeze carried it almost straight towards the line of
+the cliffs, while their only chance was to strike for the open plain.
+At the cliffs their flight would be stopped.
+
+So far the smoke had favoured them.  Thick and stifling in the immediate
+vicinity of the waggons, it enabled them to slip unobserved through the
+ruck of savages.  Many of these, still mounted, had seen them pass
+outward, but through the blue film had mistaken them for two of their
+own men.  They perhaps knew nothing of there having been horses inside
+the corral, and did not expect to see any of their caged enemies
+attempting to escape in that way.  Besides, they were now busy
+endeavouring to extinguish the fires, all resistance being at an end.
+
+As yet there was no sign of pursuit, and the fugitives rode up with the
+projecting _nimbus_ around them.  In the soft sand their horses' hoofs
+made no noise, and they galloped towards the cliff silent as spectres.
+
+On reaching its base, it became necessary for them either to change the
+direction of their flight, or bring it to a termination.  The bluff
+towered vertically above them, like a wall of rude masonwork.  A cat
+could not have scaled it, much less horse, or man.  They did not think
+of making the attempt.
+
+And now, what were they to do?  Ride out from the smoke-cloud, or remain
+under its favouring shelter?  In either case they were sure of being
+discovered and pursued.  It would soon clear off, and they would be seen
+from the waggons.  Already it was fast thinning around them; the Indians
+having nearly extinguished the fires in order to save the treasure,
+which had no doubt been their chief object for attacking the caravan.
+Soon there would be no smoke--and then?
+
+The pursued men stayed not to reflect further.  Delay would only add to
+their danger; and with this thought urging them on, they wheeled their
+horses to the left, and headed along the line of the bluff.  Six seconds
+after they were riding in a pure atmosphere, under clear dazzling
+sunlight.
+
+But it gave them no delight.  A yell from the savages told them they
+were seen, and simultaneously with the shout, they perceived a score of
+horsemen spurring from the crowd, and riding at full speed towards them.
+
+They were both splendidly mounted, and might still have had a fair
+chance of escape; but now another sight met their eyes that once more
+almost drove them to despair.
+
+A promontory of the cliff, stretching far out over the sandy plain, lay
+directly in their track.  Its point was nearer to the pursuers than to
+them.  Before they could reach, and turn it, their retreat would be
+intercepted.
+
+Was there still a chance to escape in the opposite direction?
+
+Again suddenly turning, they galloped back as they had come; again
+entered the belt of smoke; and, riding on through it, reached the clear
+sunlight beyond.
+
+Again a torturing disappointment.  Another promontory--twin to the
+first--jutted out to obstruct them.
+
+There was no mystery in the matter.  They saw the mistake they had made.
+In escaping under cover of the cloud they had gone too far, ridden
+direct into a deep embayment of the cliff!
+
+Their pursuers, who had turned promptly as they, once more had the
+advantage.  The outlying point of rocks was nearer to them, and they
+would be almost certain to arrive at it first.
+
+To the fugitives there appeared no alternative but to ride on, and take
+the chance of hewing their way through the savages surrounding--for
+certainly they would be surrounded.
+
+"Git your knife riddy, Frank!" shouted Wilder, as he dug his heels into
+his horse's side and put the animal to full speed.  "Let's keep close
+thegither--livin' or dead, let's keep thegither!"
+
+Their steeds needed no urging.  To an American horse accustomed to the
+prairies there is no spur like the yell of an Indian; for he knows that
+along with it usually comes the shock of a bullet, or the sting of a
+barbed shaft.
+
+Both bounded off together, and went over the soft sand, silent, but
+swift as the wind.
+
+In vain.  Before they could reach the projecting point, the savages had
+got up, and were clustering around it.  At least a score, with spears
+couched, bows bent, and clubs brandishing, stood ready to receive them.
+
+It was a gauntlet the pursued men might well despair of being able to
+run.  Truly now seemed their retreat cut off, and surely did death
+appear to stare them in the face.
+
+"We must die, Walt," said the young prairie merchant, as he faced
+despairingly toward his companion.
+
+"Maybe not yet," answered Wilder, as with a searching glance, he
+directed his eye along the facade of the cliff.
+
+The red sandstone rose rugged and frowning, full five hundred feet
+overhead.  To the superficial glance it seemed to forbid all chance
+either of being scaled, or affording concealment.  There was not even a
+boulder below, behind which they might find a momentary shelter from the
+shafts of the pursuers.  For all that, Wilder continued to scan it, as
+if recalling some old recollection.
+
+"This must be the place," he muttered.  "It is, by God!" he added more
+emphatically, at the same time wrenching his horse around, riding sharp
+off, and calling to his companion to follow him.
+
+Hamersley obeyed, and rode after, without knowing what next.  But, in
+another instant, he divined the intent of this sudden change in the
+tactics of his fellow fugitive.  For before riding far his eyes fell
+upon a dark list, which indicated an opening in the escarpment.
+
+It was a mere crack, or chine, scarce so wide as a doorway, and barely
+large enough to admit a man on horseback; though vertically it traversed
+the cliff to its top, splitting it from base to summit.
+
+"Off o' yur hoss!" cried Wilder, as he pulled up in front of it, at the
+same time flinging himself from his own.  "Drop the bridle, and leave
+him behint.  One o' 'em'll be enough for what I want, an' let that be
+myen.  Poor critter, it air a pity!  But it can't be helped.  We must
+hev some kiver to screen us.  Quick, Frank, or the skunks will be on to
+us!"
+
+Painful as it was to abandon his brave steed, Hamersley did as directed
+without knowing why.  The last speeches of the guide were somewhat
+enigmatical, though he presumed they meant an important signification.
+
+Slipping down from his saddle, he stood by his horse's side, a noble
+steed, the best blood of his own State, Kentucky, famed for its fine
+stock.  The animal appeared to know that its master was about to part
+from it.  It turned its head towards him; and, with bent neck, and
+steaming nostrils, gave utterance to a low neigh that, while proclaiming
+affection, seemed to say, "Why do you forsake me?"
+
+Under other circumstances the Kentuckian would have shed tears.  For
+months he and his horse had been as man and man together in many a long
+prairie journey--a companionship which unites the traveller to his steed
+in liens strong as human friendship, almost as lasting, and almost as
+painful to break.  So Frank Hamersley felt, as he flung the bridle back
+on the animal's withers--still retaining hold of the rein, loth to
+relinquish it.
+
+But there was no alternative.  Behind were the shouting pursuers quickly
+coming on.  He could see their brandished spears glancing in the sun
+glare.  They would soon be within reach, thrusting through his body;
+their barbed blades piercing him between the ribs.
+
+No time for sentiment nor dallying now, without the certainty of being
+slain.
+
+He gave one last look at his steed, and then letting go the rein, turned
+away, as one who, by stern necessity, abandons a friend, fearing
+reproach for what he does, but without the power to explain it.
+
+For a time the abandoned steed kept its place, with glances inquiringly
+sent after the master who had forsaken it.  Then, as the yelling crew
+came closer behind, it threw up its head, snorted, and tore off with
+trailing bridle.
+
+Hamersley had turned to the guide, now also afoot, but still retaining
+hold of his horse, which he was conducting towards the crack in the
+cliff, with all his energies forcing it to follow him; for the animal
+moved reluctantly, as though suspecting danger inside the darksome
+cleft.
+
+Still urging it on, he shouted back to the Kentuckian, "You go first,
+Frank!  Up into the kanyon, without losin' a second's time.  Hyar, take
+my gun, an' load both, whiles I see to the closin' o' the gap."
+
+Seizing both guns in his grasp, Hamersley sprang into the chine,
+stopping when he got well within its grim jaws.
+
+Wilder went after, leading his steed, that still strained back upon the
+bridle.
+
+There was a large stone across the aperture, over which the horse had to
+straddle.  This being above two feet in height, when the animal had got
+its forelegs over Wilder checked it to a stand.  Hitherto following him
+with forced obedience, it now trembled, and showed a strong
+determination to go back.  There was an expression, in its owner's eye
+it had never seen before--something that terribly frayed it.  But it
+could not now do this, though ever so inclined.  With its ribs close
+pressing the rocks on each side, it was unable to turn; while the bridle
+drawn firmly in front hindered it from retiring.
+
+Hamersley, busily engaged in loading the rifles, nevertheless found time
+to glance at Wilder's doings, wondering what he was about.
+
+"It air a pity!" soliloquised the latter, repeating his former words in
+similar tones of commiseration.  "F'r all that, the thing must be done.
+If thar war a rock big enough, or a log, or anythin'.  No! thar ain't
+ne'er another chance to make kiver.  So hyar goes for a bit o'
+butcherin'."
+
+As the guide thus delivered himself, Hamersley saw him jerk the bowie
+knife from his belt, its blade red and still reeking with human gore.
+In another instant its edge was drawn across the throat of the horse,
+from which the blood gushed forth in a thick, strong stream, like water
+from the spout of a pump.  The creature made a last desperate effort to
+get off, but with its forelegs over the rocks and head held down between
+them, it could not stir from the spot.  After a convulsive throe or two,
+it sank down till its ribs rested upon the straddled stone; and in this
+attitude it ended its life, the head after a time drooping down, the
+eyes apparently turned with a last reproachful look upon the master who
+had murdered it!
+
+"It hed to be did; thar war no help for it," said Wilder, as he
+hurriedly turned towards his companion, adding: "Have you got the guns
+charged?"
+
+Hamersley made answer by handing him back his own rifle.  It was loaded
+and ready.  "Darn the stinkin' cowarts!" cried the guide, grasping the
+gun, and facing towards the plain.  "I don't know how it may all eend,
+but this'll keep 'em off a while, anyhow."
+
+As he spoke he threw himself behind the body of the slaughtered steed,
+which, sustained in an upright position between the counterpart walls,
+formed a safe barricade against the bullets and arrows of the Indians.
+These, now riding straight towards the spot, made the rocks resound with
+exclamations of surprise--shouts that spoke of a delayed, perhaps
+defeated, vengeance.
+
+They took care, however, not to come within range of that long
+steel-grey tube, that, turning like a telescope on its pivot, commanded
+a semicircle of at least a hundred yards' radius round the opening in
+the cliff.
+
+Despite all the earnestness of their vengeful anger, the pursuers were
+now fairly at bay, and for a time could be kept so.
+
+Hamersley looked upon it as being but a respite--a mere temporary
+deliverance from danger, yet to terminate in death.  True, they had got
+into a position where, to all appearance, they could defend themselves
+as long as their ammunition lasted, or as they could withstand the agony
+of thirst or the cravings of hunger.  How were they to get out again?
+As well might they have been besieged in a cave, with no chance of
+sortie or escape.
+
+These thoughts he communicated to his companion, as soon as they found
+time to talk.
+
+"Hunger an' thirst ain't nothin' to do wi' it," was Wilder response.
+"We ain't a goin' to stay hyar not twenty minutes, if this child kin
+manage it as he intends ter do.  You don't s'pose I rushed into this
+hyar hole like a chased rabbit?  No, Frank; I've heern o' this place
+afore, from some fellers thet, like ourselves, made _cache_ in it from a
+band o' pursuin' Kimanch.  Thar's a way leads out at the back; an' just
+as soon as we kin throw dust in the eyes o' these yellin' varmints in
+front, we'll put straight for it.  I don't know what sort o' a passage
+thar is--up the rocks by some kind o' raven, I b'lieve.  We must do our
+best to find it."
+
+"But how do you intend to keep them from following us?  You speak of
+throwing dust in their eyes--how, Walt?"
+
+"You wait, watch an' see.  You won't hev yur patience terrifically
+tried: for thar ain't much time to spare about it.  Thar's another
+passage up the cliffs, not far off; not a doubt but these Injuns know
+it; an' ef we don't make haste, they'll git up thar, and come in upon us
+by the back door, which trick won't do, nohowsomdever.  You keep yurself
+in readiness, and watch what I'm agoin' to do.  When you see me scoot up
+back'ards, follor 'ithout sayin' a word."
+
+Hamersley promised compliance, and the guide, still kneeling behind the
+barricade he had so cruelly constructed, commenced a series of
+manoeuvres that held his companion in speechless conjecture.
+
+He first placed his gun in such a position that the barrel, resting
+across the hips of the dead horse, projected beyond the tail.  In this
+position he made it fast, by tying the butt with a piece of string to a
+projecting part of the saddle.  He next took the cap from his head--a
+coonskin it was--and set it so that its upper edge could be seen
+alongside the pommel, and rising about three inches above the croup.
+The ruse was an old one, with some new additions and embellishments.
+
+"It's all done now," said the guide, turning away from the carcase and
+crouching to where his comrade awaited him.  "Come on, Frank.  If they
+don't diskiver the trick till we've got time to speed up the clift, then
+thar's still a chance for us.  Come on, an' keep close arter me!"
+
+Hamersley went, without saying a word.  He knew that Wilder, well known
+and long trusted, had a reason for everything he did.  It was not the
+time to question him, or discuss the prudence of the step he was taking.
+There might be danger before, but there was death--sure death--behind
+them.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER ELEVEN.
+
+A DESCENT INTO DARKNESS.
+
+In less than a dozen paces from its entrance the chine opened into a
+wider space, again closing like a pair of callipers.  It was a hollow of
+elliptical shape--resembling an old-fashioned butterboat scooped out of
+the solid rock, on all sides precipitous, except at its upper end.  Here
+a ravine, sloping down from the summit-level above, would to the
+geologist at once proclaim the secret of its formation.  Not so easily
+explained might seem the narrow outlet to the open plain.  But one
+skilled in the testimony of the rocks would detect certain ferruginous
+veins in the sandstone that, refusing to yield to the erosion of the
+running stream, had stood for countless ages.
+
+Neither Walt Wilder nor the young Kentuckian gave thought to such
+scientific speculations as they retreated through the narrow gap and
+back into the wider gorge.  All they knew or cared for was that a gully
+at the opposite end was seen to slope upward, promising a path to the
+plain above.
+
+In sixty seconds they were in it, toiling onward and upward amidst a
+chaos of rocks where no horse could follow--loose boulders that looked
+as if hurled down from the heavens above or belched upward from the
+bowels of the earth.
+
+The retreat of the fugitives up the ravine, like their dash out of the
+enclosed corral, was still but a doubtful effort.  Neither of them had
+full confidence of being able eventually to escape.  It was like the
+wounded squirrel clutching at the last tiny twig of a tree, however
+unable to support it.  They were not quite certain that the sloping
+gorge would give them a path to the upper plain; for Wilder had only a
+doubtful recollection of what some trapper had told him.  But even if it
+did, the Indians, expert climbers as they were, would soon be after
+them, close upon their heels.  The ruse could not remain long
+undetected.
+
+They had plunged into the chasm as drowning men grasp at the nearest
+thing afloat--a slender branch or bunch of grass, a straw.
+
+As they now ascended the rock-strewn gorge both had their reflections,
+which, though unspoken, were very similar.  And from these came a gleam
+of hope.  If they could but reach the summit-level of the cliff!  Their
+pursuers could, of course, do the same; but not on horseback.  It would
+then be a contest of pedestrian speed.  The white men felt confidence in
+their swiftness of foot; in this respect believing themselves superior
+to their savage pursuers.  They knew that the Comanches were horse
+Indians--a significant fact.  These centaurs of the central plateaux,
+scarce ever setting foot upon the earth, when afoot are almost as
+helpless as birds with their wings plucked or pinioned.
+
+If they could reach the crest of the cliff, then all might yet be well;
+and, cheered by this reflection, they rushed up the rock-strewn ravine,
+now gliding along ledges, now squeezing their bodies between great
+boulders, or springing from one to the other--in the audacity of their
+bounds rivalling a brace of bighorns.
+
+They had got more than half-way up, when cries came pealing up the glen
+behind them.  Still were they hidden from the eyes of the pursuers.
+Jutting points of rock and huge masses that lay loose in the bed of the
+ravine had hitherto concealed them.  But for these, bullets and arrows
+would have already whistled about their ears, and perhaps put an end to
+their flight.  The savages were near enough to send either gun-shot or
+shaft, and their voices, borne upward on the air, sounded as clear as if
+they were close at hand.
+
+The fugitives, as already said, had reached more than halfway up the
+slope, and were beginning to congratulate themselves on the prospect of
+escape.  They even thought of the course they should take on arriving at
+the summit-level, for they knew that there was an open plain above.  All
+at once they were brought to a stop, though not by anything that
+obstructed their path.  On the contrary, it only seemed easier; for
+there were now two ways open to them instead of one, the ravine at this
+point forking into two distinct branches.  There was a choice of which
+to take, and it was this that caused them to make a stop, at the same
+time creating embarrassment.
+
+The pause, however, was but for a brief space of time--only long enough
+to make a hasty reconnoissance.  In the promise of an easy ascent there
+seemed but little difference between the two paths, and the guide soon
+came to a determination.
+
+"It's a toss up atween 'em," he said; "but let's take the one to the
+right.  It looks a little the likest."
+
+Of course his fellow-fugitive did not dissent, and they struck into the
+right-hand ravine; but not until Walt Wilder had plucked the red
+kerchief from his head, and flung it as far as he could up the left one,
+where it was left lying in a conspicuous position among the rocks.
+
+He did not say why he had thus strangely abandoned the remnant of his
+head-gear; but his companion, sufficiently experienced in the ways and
+wiles of prairie life, stood in no need of an explanation.
+
+The track they had now taken was of comparatively easy ascent; and it
+was this, perhaps, that had tempted Wilder to take it.  But like most
+things within the moral and physical world, its easiness proved a
+delusion.  They had not gone twenty paces further up when the sloping
+chasm terminated.  It debouched on a little platform, covered with large
+loose stones, and there rested after having fallen from the cliff above.
+But at a single glance they saw that this cliff could not be scaled.
+
+They had entered into a trap, out of which there was no chance of escape
+or retreat without throwing themselves back upon the breasts of their
+pursuers.
+
+The Indians were already ascending the main ravine.  By their voices it
+could be told that they had reached the point where it divided; for
+there was a momentary suspension of their cries, as with the baying of
+hounds thrown suddenly off the scent.
+
+It would not be for long.  They would likely first follow up the chasm
+where the kerchief had been cast, but, should that also prove a
+_cul-de-sac_, they would return and try the other.
+
+The fugitives saw that it was too late to retrace their steps.  They
+sprang together upon the platform, and commenced searching among the
+loose rocks, with a faint hope of finding some place of concealment.
+
+It was but a despairing sort of search, again like two drowning men who
+clutch at a straw.
+
+All at once an exclamation from the guide called his companion to his
+side.  It was accompanied by a gesture, and followed by words low
+muttered.
+
+"Look hyar, Frank!  Look at this hole!  Let's git into it!"
+
+As Hamersley came close he perceived a dark cavity among the stones, to
+which Wilder was pointing.  It opened vertically downward, and was of an
+irregular, roundish shape, somewhat resembling the mouth of a well,
+half-coped with slabs.
+
+Dare they enter it?  Could they?  What depth was it?
+
+Wilder took up a pebble and flung it down.  They could hear it
+descending, not at a single drop, but striking and ricochetting from
+side to side.
+
+It was long before it reached the bottom and lay silent.  No matter for
+that.  The noise made in its descent told them of projecting points or
+ledges that might give them a foothold.
+
+They lost not a moment of time, but commenced letting themselves down
+into the funnel-shaped shaft, the guide going first.
+
+Slowly and silently they went down--like ghosts through the stage of a
+theatre--soon disappearing in the gloom below, and leaving upon the
+rock-strewn platform no trace to show that human foot had ever trodden
+it.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWELVE.
+
+A STORM OF STONES.
+
+Fortunately for the fugitives, the cavity into which they had crept was
+a shaft of but slight diameter, otherwise they could not have gone down
+without dropping far enough to cause death, for the echoes from the
+pebbles betokened a vast vertical depth.
+
+As it was, the void turned out to be somewhat like that of a stone-built
+chimney with here and there a point left projecting.  It was so narrow,
+moreover, that they were able to use both hands and knees in the
+descent, and by this means they accomplished it.
+
+They went but slowly, and took care to proceed with caution.  They knew
+that a false step, the slipping of a foot or finger, or the breaking of
+a fragment that gave hold to their hands, would precipitate them to an
+unknown depth.
+
+They did not go farther than was necessary for quick concealment.  There
+was noise made in their descent, and they knew that the Indians would
+soon be above, and might hear them.  Their only hope lay in their
+pursuers believing them to have gone by the left hand path to the plain
+above.  In time the Indians would surely explore both branches of the
+ravine, and if the cunning savages should suspect their presence in the
+shaft there would be no hope for them.  These thoughts decided them to
+come to a stop as soon as they could find foothold.
+
+About thirty feet from the top they found this, on a point of rock or
+ledge that jutted horizontally.  It was broad enough to give both
+standing room, and as they were now in the midst of amorphous darkness,
+they took stand upon it.
+
+The Indians might at any moment arrive on the platform above.  They felt
+confident they could not be seen, but they might be heard.  The
+slightest sound borne upwards to the ears of the savages might betray
+them, and, knowing this, they stood still, scarce exchanging a whisper,
+and almost afraid to breathe.
+
+It was not long before they saw that which justified their caution--the
+plumed head of a savage, with his neck craned over the edge of the
+aperture, outlined conspicuously against the blue sky above.  And soon
+half a dozen similar silhouettes beside it, while they could hear
+distinctly the talk that was passing overhead.
+
+Wilder had some knowledge of the Comanche tongue, and could make out
+most of what was being said.  Amidst exclamations that spoke of
+vengeance there were words in a calmer tone--discussion, inquiry, and
+conjecture.
+
+From these it could be understood that the pursuers had separated into
+two parties, one following on the false track, by the path which the
+guide had baited for them, the other coming direct up the right and true
+one.
+
+There were bitter exclamations of disappointment and threats of an
+implacable vengeance; and the fugitives, as they listened, might have
+reflected how fortunate they had been in discovering that unfathomed
+hole.  But for it they would have already been in the clutches of a
+cruel enemy.
+
+However, they had little time for reflection.  The talk overhead at
+first expressed doubts as to their having descended the shaft, but
+doubts readily to be set at rest.
+
+The eyes of the Indians having failed to inform them, their heads were
+withdrawn; and soon after a stone came tumbling down the cavity.
+
+Something of this kind, Wilder had predicted; for he flattened himself
+against the wall behind, and stood as "small" as his colossal frame
+would permit, having cautioned his companion to do the same.
+
+The stone passed without striking them, and went crashing on till it
+struck on the bottom below.
+
+Another followed, and another; the third creasing Hamersley on the
+breast, and tearing a couple of buttons from his coat.
+
+This was shaving close--too close to be comfortable.  Perhaps the next
+boulder might rebound from the wall above and strike one or both of them
+dead.
+
+In fear of this result, they commenced groping to ascertain if the ledge
+offered any better screen from the dangerous shower, which promised to
+fall for some time longer.
+
+Good!  Hamersley felt his hand entering a hole that opened horizontally.
+It proved big enough to admit his body, as also the larger frame of his
+companion.  Both were soon inside it.  It was a sort of grotto they had
+discovered; and, crouching within it, they could laugh to scorn the
+storm that still came pouring from above; the stones, as they passed
+close to their faces, hissing and hurtling like aerolites.
+
+The rocky rain at length ended.  The Indians had evidently come to the
+conclusion that it was either barren in result, or must have effectually
+performed the purpose intended by it, and for a short time there was
+silence above and below.
+
+They who were hidden in the shaft might have supposed that their
+persecutors, satisfied at what they had accomplished, were returning to
+the plain, and had retired from the spot.
+
+Hamersley did think so; but Walt, an old prairie man, more skilled in
+the Indian character, could not console himself with such a fancy.
+
+"Ne'er a bit o' it," he whisperingly said to his companion.  "They ain't
+agoin' to leave us that easy--not if Horned Lizard be amongst 'em.
+They'll either stay thar till we climb out agin, or try to smoke us.  Ye
+may take my word for it, Frank, thar's some'ut to come yet.  Look up!
+Didn't I tell ye so?"
+
+Wilder drew back out of the narrow aperture, through which he had been
+craning his neck and shoulders in order to get a view of what was
+passing above.
+
+The hole leading into the grotto that held them was barely large enough
+to admit the body of a man.  Hamersley took his place, and, turning his
+eyes upward, at once saw what his comrade referred to.  It was the smoke
+of a fire, that appeared in the act of being kindled near the edge of
+the aperture above.  The smoke was ascending towards the sky, diagonally
+drifting across the blue disc outlined by the rim of rock.
+
+He had barely time to make the observation when a swishing sound
+admonished him to draw back his head; then there passed before his face
+a ruck of falling stalks and faggots.  Some of them settled upon the
+ledge, the rest sweeping on to the bottom of the abyss.
+
+In a moment after the shaft was filled with smoke, but not that of an
+ordinary wood fire.  Even this would have been sufficient to stifle them
+where they were; but the fumes now entering their nostrils were of a
+kind to cause suffocation almost instantaneously.
+
+The faggots set on fire were the stalks of the creosote plant--the
+_ideodondo_ of the Mexican table lands, well known for its power to
+cause asphyxia.  Walt Wilder recognised it at the first whiff.
+
+"It's the stink-weed!" he exclaimed.  "That darned stink-weed o' New
+Mexico!  It'll kill us if we can't keep it out.  Off wi' your coat,
+Frank; it are bigger than my hunting skirt.  Let's spread it across the
+hole, an' see if that'll do."
+
+His companion obeyed with alacrity, stripping off his coat as quickly as
+the circumscribed space would permit.  Fortunately, it was a garment of
+the sack specialty, without any split in the tail, and when extended
+offered a good breadth of surface.
+
+It proved sufficient for the purpose, and, before the little grotto had
+become so filled with smoke as to be absolutely untenable, its entrance
+was closed by a curtain of broadcloth, held so hermetically over the
+aperture that even the fumes of Assafoetida could not possibly have
+found their way inside.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
+
+BURIED ALIVE.
+
+For nearly half an hour they kept the coat spread, holding it close
+around the edges of the aperture with their heads, hands, knees, and
+elbows.  Withal some of the bitter smoke found ingress, torturing their
+eyes, and half stifling them.
+
+They bore it with philosophic fortitude and in profound silence, using
+their utmost efforts to refrain from sneezing or coughing.
+
+They knew that the least noise heard by the Indians above--anything to
+indicate their presence in the shaft--would ensure their destruction.
+The fumigation would be continued till the savages were certain of its
+having had a fatal effect.  If they could hold out long enough, even
+Indian astuteness might be baffled.
+
+From what Wilder had heard, their persecutors were in doubt about their
+having descended into the shaft; and this uncertainty promised to be
+their salvation.  Unless sure that they were taking all this trouble to
+some purpose, the red men would not dally long over their work.
+Besides, there was the rich booty to be drawn from the captured waggons,
+which would attract the Indians back to them, each having an interest in
+being present at the distribution.
+
+Thus reasoned Walt Wilder as they listened to detect a change in the
+performance, making use of all their ears.
+
+Of course they could see nothing, no more than if they had been immured
+in the darkest cell of an Inquisitorial dungeon.  Only by their ears
+might they make any guess at what was going on.  These admonished them
+that more of the burning brush was being heaved into the hole.  Every
+now and then they could hear it as it went swishing past the door of
+their curtained chamber, the stalks and sticks rasping against the rocks
+in their descent.
+
+After a time these sounds ceased to be heard; the Indians no doubt
+thinking that sufficient of the inflammatory matter had been cast in to
+cause their complete destruction.  If inside the cavern, they must by
+this time be stifled--asphyxiated--dead.
+
+So must have reasoned the red-skinned fumigators; for after a while they
+desisted from their hellish task.  But, as if to make assurance doubly
+sure, before taking departure from the spot, they performed another act
+indicative of an equally merciless intention.
+
+During the short period of silence their victims could not tell what
+they were about.  They only knew, by occasional sounds reaching them
+from above, that there was some change in the performance; but what it
+was they could not even shape a conjecture.
+
+The interregnum at length ended with a loud rumbling noise, that was
+itself suddenly terminated by a grand crash, as if a portion of the
+impending cliff had become detached, and fallen down upon the platform.
+
+Then succeeded a silence, unbroken by the slightest sound.  No longer
+was heard either noise or voice--not the murmur of one.
+
+It was a silence that resembled death; as if the vindictive savages had
+one and all met a deserved doom by being crushed under the falling
+cliff.
+
+For some time after hearing this mysterious noise, which had caused the
+rock to tremble around them, the two men remained motionless within
+their place of concealment.
+
+At length Wilder cautiously and deliberately pushed aside the curtain.
+At first only a small portion of it--a corner, so as to make sure about
+the smoke.
+
+It still oozed in, but not so voluminously as at first.  It had
+evidently become attenuated, and was growing thinner.  It appeared also
+to be ascending with rapidity, as up the funnel of a chimney having a
+good draught.  For this reason it was carried past the mouth of the
+grotto without much of it drifting in, and they saw that they could soon
+safely withdraw the curtain.  It was a welcome relaxation from the
+irksome task that had been so long imposed upon them, and the coat was
+at length permitted to drop down upon the ledge.
+
+Although there were no longer any sounds heard, or other signs to
+indicate the presence of the Indians, the fugitives did not feel sure of
+their having gone; and it was some time before they made any attempt to
+reascend the shaft.  Some of the pursuers might still be lurking near,
+or straying within sight.  They had so far escaped death, as if by a
+miracle, and they were cautious of again tempting fate.  They determined
+that for some time yet they would not venture out upon the ledge, but
+keep inside the grotto that had given them such well-timed shelter.
+Some sulky savage, disappointed at not getting their scalps, might take
+it into his head to return and hurl down into the hole another shower of
+stones.  Such a whim was probable to a prairie Indian.
+
+Cautious against all like contingencies, the guide counselled his
+younger companion to patience, and for a considerable time they remained
+without stirring out of their obscure chamber.
+
+At length, however, perceiving that the tranquillity continued, they no
+longer deemed it rash to make a reconnoissance; and for this purpose
+Walt Wilder crawled out upon the ledge and looked upward.  A feeling of
+surprise, mingled with apprehension, at once seized upon him.
+
+"Kin it be night?" he asked, whispering the words back into the grotto.
+
+"Not yet, I should think?" answered Hamersley.  "The fight was begun
+before daybreak.  The day can't all have passed yet.  But why do you
+ask, Walt?"
+
+"Because thar's no light comin' from above.  Whar's the bit o' blue sky
+we seed?  Thar ain't the breadth o' a hand visible.  It can't a be the
+smoke as hides it.  That seems most cleared off.  Darned if I can see a
+steim o' the sky.  'Bove as below, everything's as black as the ten o'
+spades.  What kin it mean?"
+
+Without waiting a reply, or staying for his companion to come out upon
+the ledge, Wilder rose to his feet, and, grasping the projecting points
+above his head, commenced swarming up the shaft, in a similar manner as
+that by which he had made the descent.
+
+Hamersley, who by this time had crept out of the grotto, stood upon the
+ledge listening.
+
+He could hear his comrade as he scrambled up; the rasping of his feet
+against the rocks, and his stentorian breathing.
+
+At length Walt appeared to have reached the top, when Hamersley heard
+words that sent a thrill of horror throughout his whole frame.
+
+"Oh!" cried the guide, in his surprise, forgetting to subdue the tone of
+his voice, "they've built us up!  Thar's a stone over the mouth o' the
+hole--shettin' it like a pot lid.  A stone--a rock that no mortal ked
+move.  Frank Hamersley, it's all over wi' us; we're buried alive!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
+
+A SAVAGE SATURNAL.
+
+Only for a short while had Wilder's trick held the pursuers in check.
+Habituated to such wiles, the Indians, at first suspecting it to be one,
+soon became certain.  For, as they scattered to each side of the cleft,
+the steel tube no longer kept turning towards them, while the coonskin
+cap remained equally without motion.
+
+At length, becoming convinced, and urged on by the Red Cross chief and
+the bearded savage by his side, they dashed boldly up, and, dismounting,
+entered the chine over the body of the butchered horse.
+
+Only staying to take possession of the relinquished rifle, they
+continued on up the ravine fast as their feet could carry them.  A
+moment's pause where the red kerchief lay on the rock, suspecting this
+also a ruse to mislead them as to the track taken by the fugitives.  To
+make certain, they separated into two parties--one going up the gulch,
+that led left, the other proceeding by that which conducted to the place
+where the two men had concealed themselves.
+
+Arriving upon the little platform, the pursuers at once discovered the
+cavity, at the same time conjecturing that the pursued had gone into it.
+Becoming sure of this, they who took the left-hand path rejoined them,
+these bringing the report that they had ascended to the summit of the
+cliff, and seen nothing of the two men who were chased.
+
+Then the stones were cast in; after them the burning stalks of the
+_ideodondo_; when, finally, to make destruction sure, the rock was
+rolled over, closing up the shaft as securely as if the cliff itself had
+fallen face downward upon the spot.
+
+The savages stayed no longer there.  All were too eager to return to the
+waggons to make sure of their share in the captured spoils.
+
+One alone remained--he with the bushed beard.  After the others were
+gone he stepped up to the boulder, and, stooping down, placed his ear
+close to it.  He appeared as if trying to catch some sound that might
+come from the cavity underneath.
+
+None came--no noise, even the slightest.  Within the shut shaft all was
+still as death.  For death itself must be down there, if there ever was
+life.
+
+For some time he crouched beside the rock, listening.  Then rising to
+his feet, with a smile of satisfaction upon his grim, sinister features,
+he said, in soliloquy,--
+
+"They're down there, no doubt of it; and dead long before this.  One of
+the two must have been he.  Who the other matters not _Carrai_!  I'd
+like to have had a look at him too, and let him see who has given him
+his quietus.  Bah! what does it signify?  It's all over now, and I've
+had my revenge.  _Vamos_!  I must get back to the waggons, or my friend
+the Horned Lizard may be taking his pick of the plunder.  Luckily these
+redskins don't know the different values of the goods; so I shall bestow
+the cotton prints with a liberal hand, keeping the better sorts to
+myself.  And now to assist in the partition of spoils."
+
+So saying, he strode away from the rock, and, gliding back down the
+gulch, climbed over the carcass of the dead horse.  Then, finding his
+own outside, he mounted and rode off to rejoin his red-skinned comrades
+engaged in sacking the caravan.
+
+On reaching it a spectacle was presented to his eyes--frightful, though
+not to him.  For he was a man who had seen similar sights before--one
+with soul steeped in kindred crime.
+
+The waggons had been drawn partially apart, disclosing the space
+between.  The smoke had all ascended or drifted off, and clear sunlight
+once more shone upon the sand--over the ground lately barricaded by the
+bodies of those who had so bravely defended it.  There were thirteen of
+them--the party of traders and hunters being in all but fifteen.  Of
+those slain upon the spot there was not one now wearing his hair.  Their
+heads were bare and bloody, the crown of each showing a circular disc of
+dark crimson colour.  The scalping-knife had already completed its work,
+and the ghastly trophies were seen impaled upon the points of spears--
+some of them stuck upright in the sand, others borne triumphantly about
+by the exulting victors.  Their triumph had cost them dear.  On the
+plain outside at least thirty of their own lay extended, stone dead;
+while here and there a group bending over some recumbent form told of a
+warrior wounded.
+
+By the orders of their chief, some had set about collecting the corpses
+of their slain comrades, with the intent of interring them.  Others,
+acting without orders, still continued to wreak their savage spite upon
+the bodies of their white victims, submitting them to further
+mutilation.  They chopped off their heads; then, poising these on the
+points of spears, tossed them to and fro, all the while shouting in
+savage glee, laughing with a cacchination that resembled the mirth of a
+madhouse.
+
+Withal, there was stern vengeance in its tones.  A resistance, they
+little expected, causing them such serious loss, had roused their
+passions to a pitch of the utmost exasperation; and they tried to allay
+their spiteful anger by expending it on the dead bodies of those who,
+while living, had so effectually chastised them.  These were slashed and
+hacked with tomahawks, pierced with spears, and arrows, beaten with war
+clubs, then cut into pieces, to be tied to the tails of their horses,
+and dragged in gallop to and fro over the ground.  For some time this
+tragical spectacle held play.  Then ensued a scene savouring of the
+ludicrous and grotesque.
+
+The waggons were emptied of their contents, while the rich freight,
+transported to a distance, was spread out upon the plain, and its
+partition entered upon--all crowding around to receive their share.
+
+The distribution was superintended by the Horned Lizard, though he with
+the beard appeared to act with equal, or even greater, authority.
+Backed by the second personage, who wore hair on his cheeks, he dictated
+the apportionment.
+
+And as he had said in soliloquy, the cotton prints of gaudy patterns
+satisfied the cupidity of his red-skinned companions, leaving to himself
+and his confidential friend the costlier fabrics of silken sheen.  Among
+the traders' stock were knives of common sort--the cheapest cutlery of
+Sheffield; guns and pistols of the Brummagem brand, with beads, looking
+glasses, and such-like notions from the New England Boston.  All these,
+delectable in the eyes of the Horned Lizard and his Tenawas, were left
+to them; while the bearded man, himself selecting, appropriated the
+silks and satins, the laces and real jewellery that had been designed to
+deck the rich _doncellas_ of Santa Fe, El Paso, Chihuahua, and Durango.
+
+The distribution over, the scene assumed a new aspect.  It was now that
+the ludicrous came prominently into play.  Though not much water had
+been found in the waggons, there was enough fluid of stronger spirit.  A
+barrel of Monongahela whisky was part of the caravan stores left
+undestroyed.  Knowing the white man's firewater but too well, the
+Indians tapped the cask, and quaffed of its contents.
+
+In a short time two-thirds of the band became intoxicated.  Some rolled
+over dead drunk, and lay a-stretch along the sand.  Others tottered
+about, uttering maudlin speeches.  Still others of stronger stomach and
+steader brain kept their feet, as also their senses; only that these
+became excited, increasing their cupidity.  They wanted more than they
+had got, and would gamble to get it.  One had a piece of cotton print,
+and so had another.  Each wished to have both or none.  How was it to be
+decided?  By cards?  By dice?  No.  There was a way more congenial to
+their tastes--more _a propos_ to their habits.  It should be done by
+their horses.  They knew the sort of game, for it is not the first time
+they have played it.  The piece of print is unrolled, and at each end
+tied to a horse's tail.  The owners spring to the backs of the animals,
+then urge them in the opposite directions till the strain comes; at the
+pluck the web gives way, and he who holds the longer part becomes
+possessor of the whole.
+
+Others, not gamblers, out of sheer devilry and diversion, similarly
+attach their stuffs, and gallop over the ground with the prints trailing
+fifty yards behind them.  In the frenzied frolic that had seized hold of
+them they forgot their slain comrades, still unburied.  They whoop,
+shout, and laugh till the cliffs, in wild, unwonted echo, send back the
+sound of their demoniac mirth.  A riot rare as original--a true saturnal
+of savages.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
+
+A LIVING TOMB.
+
+Literally buried alive, as Walt Wilder had said, were he and his
+companion.
+
+They now understood what had caused the strange noise that mystified
+them--the rumbling followed by a crash.  No accidental _debacle_ or
+falling of a portion of the cliff, as they had been half supposing; but
+a deed of atrocious design--a huge rock rolled by the united strength of
+the savages, until it rested over the orifice of the shaft, completely
+coping and closing it.
+
+It may have been done without any certain knowledge of their being
+inside--only to make things sure.  It mattered not to the two men thus
+cruelly enclosed, for they knew that in any case there was no hope of
+their being rescued from what they believed to be a living tomb.
+
+That it was such neither could doubt.  The guide, gifted with herculean
+strength, had tried to move the stone on discovering how it lay.  With
+his feet firmly planted in the projections below, and his shoulder to
+the rock above, he had given a heave that would have lifted a loaded
+waggon from its wheels.
+
+The stone did not budge with all this exertion.  There was not so much
+as motion.  He might as successfully have made trial to move a mountain
+from its base.  He did not try again.  He remembered the rock itself.
+He had noticed it while they were searching for a place to conceal
+themselves, and had been struck with its immense size.  No one man could
+have stirred it from its place.  It must have taken at least twenty
+Indians.  No matter how many, they had succeeded in their design, and
+their victims were now helplessly enclosed in the dark catacomb--slowly,
+despairingly to perish.
+
+"All up wi' us, I reck'n," said the guide, as he once more let himself
+down upon the ledge to communicate the particulars to his companion.
+
+Hamersley ascended to see for himself.  They could only go one at a
+time.  He examined the edge of the orifice where the rock rested upon
+it.  He could only do so by the touch.  Not a ray of light came in on
+any side, and groping round and round he could detect neither crevice
+nor void.  There were weeds and grass, still warm and smouldering, the
+_debris_ of what had been set on fire for their fumigation.  The rock
+rested on a bedding of these; hence the exact fit, closing every crack
+and crevice.
+
+On completing his exploration Hamersley returned to his companion below.
+
+"Hopeless!" murmured Wilder, despondingly.
+
+"No, Walt; I don't think so yet."
+
+The Kentuckian, though young, was a man of remarkable intelligence as
+well as courage.  It needed these qualities to be a prairie merchant--
+one who commanded a caravan.  Wilder knew him to be possessed of them--
+in the last of them equalling himself, in the first far exceeding him.
+
+"You think thar's a chance for us to get out o' hyar?" he said,
+interrogatively.
+
+"I think there is, and a likely one."
+
+"Good!  What leads ye to think so, Frank?"
+
+"Reach me my bowie.  It's behind you there in the cave."
+
+Wilder did as requested.
+
+"It will depend a good deal upon what sort of rock this is around us.
+It isn't flint, anyhow.  I take it to be either lime or sandstone.  If
+so, we needn't stay here much longer than it would be safe to go out
+again among those bloodthirsty savages."
+
+"How do you mean, Frank?  Darn me if I yet understan ye."
+
+"It's very simple, Walt.  If this cliff rock be only sandstone, or some
+other substance equally soft, we may cut our way out--under the big
+stone."
+
+"Ah!  I didn't think o' thet.  Thar's good sense in what ye say."
+
+"It has a softish feel," said the Kentuckian, as he drew his hand across
+one of the projecting points.  "I wish I only had two inches of a
+candle.  However, I think I can make my exploration in the dark."
+
+There was a short moment of silence, after which was heard a clinking
+sound, as of a knife blade being repeatedly struck against a stone.  It
+was Hamersley, with his bowie, chipping off a piece from the rock that
+projected from the side of the shaft.
+
+The sound was pleasant to the Kentuckian's ear, for it was not the hard
+metallic ring given out by quartz or granite.  On the contrary, the
+steel struck against it with a dull, dead echo, and he could feel that
+the point of the knife easily impinged upon it.
+
+"Sandstone," he said; "or something that'll serve our purpose equally as
+well.  Yes, Walt, there's a good chance for us to get out of this ugly
+prison; so keep up your heart, comrade.  It may cost us a couple of
+days' quarrying.  Perhaps all the better for that; the Indians are
+pretty sure to keep about the waggons for a day or so.  They'll find
+enough there to amuse them.  Our work will depend a good deal on what
+sort of a stone they've rolled over the hole.  You remember what size
+the boulder was?"
+
+"'Twas a largish pebble; looked to me at least ten feet every way.  It
+sort o' serprised me how the skunks ked a budged it.  I reck'n 'twar on
+a coggle, an' rolled eezy.  It must ha' tuk the hul clanjamfry o' them."
+
+"If we only knew the right edge to begin at.  For that we must go by
+guess-work.  Well, we mustn't lose time, but set about our stone-cutting
+at once.  Every hour will be taking the strength out of us.  I only came
+down for the bowie to make a beginning.  I'll make trial at it first,
+and then we can take turn and turn about."
+
+Provided with his knife, the Kentuckian again climbed up; and soon after
+the guide heard a crinkling sound, succeeded by the rattling of pieces
+of rock, as they got detached and came showering down.
+
+To save his crown, now uncovered by the loss of both kerchief and cap,
+he crept back into the alcove that had originally protected them from
+the stones cast in by the Indians.  Along with the splinters something
+else came past Walt's face, making a soft, rustling sound; it had a
+smell also that told what it was--the "cussed stink-weed."
+
+From the falling fragments, their size and number, he could tell that
+his comrade was making good way.
+
+Walt longed to relieve him at his work, and called up a request to this
+end; but Hamersley returned a refusal, speaking in a cautious tone, lest
+his voice might be borne out to the ear of some savage still lingering
+near.
+
+For over an hour Wilder waited below, now and then casting impatient
+glances upward.  They were only mechanical; for, of course, he could see
+nothing.  But they were anxious withal; for the success of his comrade's
+scheme was yet problematical.
+
+With sufficient food and drink to sustain them, they might in time
+accomplish what they had set about; but wanting these, their strength
+would soon give way, and then--ah! then--
+
+The guide was still standing on the ledge, pursuing this or a similar
+train of reflection, when all at once a sight came, not under but above
+his eyes, which caused him to utter an exclamation of joy.
+
+It was the sight of his comrade's face--only that!
+
+But this had in it a world of significance.  He could hot have seen that
+face without light.  Light had been let into their rock-bound abode, so
+late buried in the profoundest darkness.
+
+It was but a feeble glimmer, that appeared to have found admission
+through a tiny crevice under the huge copestone; and Hamersley's face,
+close to it, was seen only in faint shadow--fainter from the film of
+smoke yet struggling up the shaft.
+
+Still was it light--beautiful, cheering light--like some shore-beacon
+seen by the storm-tossed mariner amid the dangers of a night-shrouded
+sea.
+
+Hamersley had not yet spoken a word to explain what had occurred to
+cause it.  He had suddenly left off chipping the rock, and was at rest,
+apparently in contemplation of the soft silvery ray that was playing so
+benignly upon his features.
+
+Was it the pleasure of once more beholding what he lately thought he
+might never see again--the light of day?  Was it this alone that was
+keeping him still and speechless?
+
+No, something else; as he told his comrade when he rejoined him soon
+after on the ledge.
+
+"Walt," he said, "I've let daylight in, as you see; but I find it'll
+take a long time to cut a passage out.  It's only the weeds I've been
+able to get clear of.  The big rock runs over at least five feet, and
+the stone turns out harder than I thought of."
+
+These were not cheering words to Walt Wilder.
+
+"But," continued Hamersley, his speech changing to a more hopeful tone,
+"I've noticed something that may serve better still; perhaps save us all
+the quarrying.  I don't know whether I'm right; but we shall soon see."
+
+"What hev ye noticed?" was the question put by Wilder.
+
+"You see there's still some smoke around us."
+
+"Yes, Frank, my eyes tell me that plain enuf.  I've nigh nibbed 'em out
+o' thar sockets."
+
+"Well, as soon as I had scooped out the crack that let in the daylight.
+I noticed that the smoke rushed out as if blasted through a pair of
+bellows.  That shows there's a draught coming up.  It can only come from
+some aperture below, acting as a furnace or the funnel of a chimney.  We
+must try to get down to the bottom, and see if there's such a thing.  If
+there be, who knows but it may be big enough to let us out of our
+prison, without having to carve our way through the walls, which I feel
+certain would take us several days.  We must try to get down to the
+bottom."
+
+To accede to this request the guide needed no urging, and both--one
+after the other--at once commenced descending.
+
+They found no great difficulty in getting down, any more than they had
+already experienced, for the shaft continued all the way down nearly the
+same width, and very similar to what it was above the ledge.  Near the
+bottom, however, it became abruptly wider by the retrocession of the
+walls.  They were now in a dilemma, for they had reached a point where
+they could go no further without dropping off.  It might be ten feet, it
+might be a hundred--in any case enough to make the peril appalling.
+
+Wilder had gone first, and soon bethought himself of a test.  He unslung
+his powder-horn and permitted it to drop from his hand, listening
+attentively.  It made scarce any noise; still he could hear it striking
+against something soft.  It was the brush thrown in by the Indians.
+This did not seem far below; and the half-burnt stalks would be
+something to break their fall.
+
+"I'll chance it," said Walt, and almost simultaneous with his words was
+heard the bump of his heavy body alighting on the litter below.
+
+"You may jump without fear, Frank.  'Taint over six feet in the clar."
+
+Hamersley obeyed, and soon both stood at the bottom of the chimney--on
+the hearthstone where the stalks of the creosote still smouldered.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
+
+OFF AT LAST!
+
+On touching _terra firma_, and finding plenty of space around, they
+scrambled from off the pile of loose stones and stalks cast down by the
+Indians, and commenced groping their way about.  Again touching the firm
+surrounding of rock, they groped searchingly along it.
+
+They were not long engaged in their game of blind-man's buff, when the
+necessity of trusting to the touch came abruptly to an end--as if the
+handkerchief had been suddenly jerked from their eyes.  The change was
+caused by a light streaming in through a side gallery into which they
+had strayed.  It was at first dim and distant, but soon shone upon them
+with the brilliance of a flambeau.
+
+Following the passage through which it guided them, they reached an
+aperture of irregular roundish shape, about the size, of the cloister
+window of a convent.  They saw at once that it was big enough to allow
+the passage of their bodies.  They saw, too, that it was admitting the
+sunbeams--admonishing them that it was still far from night.
+
+They had brought all their traps down along with them--their knives and
+pistols, with Hamersley's gun still carefully kept.  But they hesitated
+about going out.  There could be no difficulty in their doing so, for
+there was a ledge less than three feet under the aperture, upon which
+they could find footing.  It was not that which caused them to hesitate,
+but the fact of again falling into the hands of their implacable
+enemies.
+
+That these were still upon the plain they had evidence.  They could hear
+their yells and whooping, mingled with peals of wild demon-like
+laughter.  It was at the time when the firewater was in the ascendant,
+and the savages were playing their merry game with the pieces of
+despoiled cotton goods.
+
+There was danger in going out, but there might be more in staying in.
+The savages might return upon their search, and discover this other
+entrance to the vault.  In that case they would take still greater pains
+to close it and besiege the two fugitives to the point of starvation.
+
+Both were eager to escape from a place they had lately looked upon as a
+living tomb.
+
+Still, they dared not venture out of it.  They could not retreat by the
+plain so long as the Indians were upon it.  At night, perhaps, in the
+darkness, they might.  Hamersley suggested this.
+
+"No," said Walt, "nor at night eyther.  It's moontime, you know; an'
+them sharp-eyed Injuns niver all goes to sleep thegither.  On that sand
+they'd see us in the moonlight 'most as plain as in the day.  Ef we wait
+at all, we'll hev to stay till they go clar off."
+
+Wilder, while speaking, stood close to the aperture, looking cautiously
+out.  At that moment, craning his neck to a greater stretch, so as to
+command a better view of what lay below, his eye caught sight of an
+object that elicited an exclamation of surprise.
+
+"Darn it," he said, "thar's my old clout lyin' down thar on the rocks."
+
+It was the red kerchief he had plucked from his head to put the pursuers
+on the wrong track.
+
+"It's jest where I flinged it," he continued; "I kin recognise the
+place.  That gully, then, must be the one we didn't go up."
+
+Walt spoke the truth.  The decoy was still in the place where he had set
+it.  The square of soiled and faded cotton had failed to tempt the
+cupidity of the savages, who knew that in the waggons they had captured
+were hundreds of such, clean and new, with far richer spoil besides.
+
+"S'pose we still try that path, Frank.  It may lead us to the top arter
+all.  If they've bin up it they've long ago gone down agin; I kin tell
+by thar yelpin' around the waggons.  They've got holt of our corn afore
+this; and won't be so sharp in lookin' arter us."
+
+"Agreed," said Hamersley.
+
+Without further delay the two scrambled out through the aperture, and,
+creeping along the ledge, once more stood in the hollow of the ravine,
+at the point of its separation into the forks that had perplexed them in
+their ascent.  Perhaps, after all, they had chosen the right one.  At
+the time of their first flight, had they succeeded in reaching the plain
+above, they would surely have been seen and pursued; though with
+superior swiftness of foot they might still have escaped.
+
+Once more they faced upward, by the slope of the ravine yet untried.
+
+On passing it, Walt laid hold of his "clout," as he called it, and
+replaced it, turban fashion, on his head.
+
+"I can only weesh," he said, "I ked as convenient rekiver my rifle; an',
+darn me, but I would try, ef it war only thar still.  It ain't, I know.
+Thet air piece is too precious for a Injun to pass by.  It's gone back
+to the waggons."
+
+They could now more distinctly hear the shouts of their despoilers; and,
+as they continued the ascent, the narrow chine in the cliff opened
+between them and the plain, giving them a glimpse of what was there
+going on.
+
+They could see the savages--some on foot, others on horseback--the
+latter careering round as if engaged in a tournament.
+
+They saw they were roystering, wild with triumph, and maddened with
+drink--the fire-water they had found in the waggons.
+
+"Though they be drunk, we mustn't stay hyar so nigh 'em," muttered Walt.
+"I allers like to put space atween me and seech as them.  They mout get
+some whimsey into their heads, an' come this ways.  They'll take any
+amount o' trouble to raise ha'r; an' maybe grievin' that they hain't got
+ourn yit, an' mout think they'd hev another try for it.  As the night's
+bound to be a mooner, we can't git too far from 'em.  So let's out o'
+this quick's we kin."
+
+"On, then!" said Hamersley, assenting; and the next moment the two were
+rapidly ascending the gorge, Wilder leading the way.
+
+This time they were more fortunate.  The ravine sloped on up to the
+summit of the cliff, debouching upon a level plain.  They reached this
+without passing any point that could bring them under the eyes of the
+Indians.
+
+They could still hear the shouts of triumph and wild revelry; but as
+they receded from the crest of the cliff these grew fainter and fainter,
+until they found themselves fleeing over an open table-land, bounded
+above by the sky, all round them silent as death--silent as the heart of
+a desert.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
+
+INTO THE DESERT.
+
+The cliff, up which the young prairie merchant and his guide, after
+their series of hairbreadth escapes, have succeeded in climbing, is the
+scarped edge of a spur of the famous Llano Estacado, or "Staked Plain,"
+and it is into this sterile tract they are now fleeing.
+
+Neither have any definite knowledge of the country before them, or the
+direction they ought to take.  Their only thought is to put space
+between themselves and the scene of their disaster--enough to secure
+them against being seen by the eye of any Indian coming after.
+
+A glance is sufficient to satisfy them that only by distance can they
+obtain concealment.  Far as the eye can reach the surface appears a
+perfect level, without shrub or tree.  There is not cover enough to give
+hiding-place to a hare.  Although now in full run, and with no
+appearance of being pursued, they are far from being confident of
+escaping.  They are under an apprehension that some of the savages have
+ascended to the upper plain, and are still on it, searching for them.
+If so, these may be encountered at any moment, returning disappointed
+from the pursuit.
+
+The fugitives draw some consolation from the knowledge that the pursuers
+could not have got their horses up the cliff; and, if there is to be
+another chapter to the chase, it will be on foot--a contest of
+pedestrian speed.  In a trial of this kind Walt Wilder, at least, has
+nothing to fear.  The Colossus, with his long strides, would be almost a
+match for the giant with the seven-leagued boots.
+
+Their only uneasiness is that the savages may have gone out upon the
+track they are themselves taking, and, appearing in their front, may
+head them off, and so intercept their retreat.  As there is yet no
+savage in sight--no sign either of man or animal--their confidence
+increases; and, after making a mile or so across the plain, they no
+longer look ahead, but backward.
+
+At short intervals the great brown beard of the guide sweeps his left
+shoulder, as he casts anxious glances behind him.  They are all the more
+anxious on observing--which he now does--that his fellow-fugitive flags
+in his pace, and shows signs of giving out.
+
+With a quick comprehension, and without any questions asked, Wilder
+understands the reason.  In the smoke-cloud that covered their retreat
+from the corralled waggons--afterwards in the sombre shadow of the
+chine, and the obscurity of the cave, he had not observed what now, in
+the bright glare of the sunlight, is too plainly apparent--that the
+nether garments of his comrade are saturated with blood.
+
+Hamersley has scarce noticed it himself, and his attention is now called
+to it, less from perceiving any acute pain than that he begins to feel
+faint and feeble.  Blood is oozing through the breast of his shirt,
+running down the legs of his trousers, and on into his boots.  And the
+fountain from which it proceeds is fast disclosing itself by an aching
+pain in his side, which increases as he strides on.
+
+A moment's pause to examine it.  When the vest and shirt are opened it
+is seen that a bullet has passed through his left side, causing only a
+flesh wound, but cutting an artery in its course.  Scratched and torn in
+several other places, for the time equally painful, he had not yet
+perceived this more serious injury.
+
+It is not mortal, nor likely to prove so.  The guide and hunter, like
+most of his calling, is a rough practical surgeon; and after giving the
+wound a hurried examination, pronounces it "only a scratch," then urges
+his companion onward.
+
+Again starting, they proceed at the same quick pace; but before they
+have made another mile the wounded man feels his weakness sensibly
+overcoming him.  Then the rapid run is succeeded by a slow dog-trot,
+soon decreasing to a walk, at length ending in a dead stop.
+
+"I can go no farther, Walt; not if all the devils of hell were at my
+heels.  I've done my best.  If they come after you keep on, and leave
+me."
+
+"Niver, Frank Hamersley, niver!  Walt Wilder ain't the man to sep'rate
+from a kumrade, and leave him in a fix that way.  If ye must pull up, so
+do this child.  An' I see ye must; thar's no behelp for it."
+
+"I cannot go a step farther."
+
+"Enuf!  But don't let's stan' to be seen miles off.  Squat's the word.
+Down on yer belly, like a toad under a harrer.  Thar's jest a
+resemblance o' kiver, hyar 'mong these tussocks o' buffler-grass; an'
+this child ain't the most inconspicerousest objeck on the plain.  Let's
+squat on our breast-ribs, an' lay close as pancakes."
+
+Whilst speaking he throws himself to the earth, flat on his face.
+
+Hamersley, already tottering, drops down by his side; as he does so,
+leaving the plain, as far as the eye can reach, without salient object
+to intercept the vision--any more than might be seen on the surface of a
+sleeping ocean.
+
+It is in favour of the fugitives that the day has now well declined.
+But they do not remain long in their recumbent position before the sun,
+sinking behind the western horizon, gives them an opportunity of once
+more getting upon their feet.
+
+They do so, glad to escape from a posture whose restraint is exceedingly
+irksome.  They have suffered from the hot atmosphere rising like caloric
+from the parched plain.  But now that the sun had gone down, a cool
+breeze begins to play over its surface, fanning them to fresh energy.
+Besides, the night closing over them--the moon not yet up--has removed
+the necessity for keeping any longer in concealment, and they proceed
+onward without fear.  Hamersley feels as if fresh blood had been infused
+into his veins; and he is ready to spring to his feet at the same time
+as his comrade.
+
+"Frank! d'ye think ye kin go a little furrer now?" is the interrogatory
+put by the hunter.
+
+"Yes, Walt; miles further," is the response.  "I feel as if I could walk
+across the grandest spread of prairie."
+
+"Good!" ejaculates the guide.  "I'm glad to hear you talk that way.  If
+we kin but git a wheen o' miles atween us an' them yelpin' savages, we
+may hev a chance o' salvation yit.  The wust o' the thing air, that we
+don't know which way to go.  It's a toss up 'tween 'em.  If we turn back
+torst the Canadyen, we may meet 'em agin, an' right in the teeth.
+Westart lies the settlement o' the Del Nort; but we mout come on the
+same Injuns by goin' that direckshun.  I'm not sartin they're Tenawas.
+Southart this Staked Plain hain't no endin' till ye git down to the
+Grand River below its big bend, an' that ain't to be thort o'.  By
+strikin' east, a little southart, we mout reach the head sources o' the
+Loozyany Red; an' oncest on a stream o' runnin' water, this child kin
+generally navigate down it, provided he hev a rifle, powder, an' a
+bullet or two in his pouch.  Thank the Almighty Lord, we've stuck to
+your gun through the thick an' the thin o't.  Ef we hedn't we mout jest
+as well lie down agin' an' make a die at oncest."
+
+"Go which way you please, Walt; you know best.  I am ready to follow
+you; and I think I shall be able."
+
+"Wal, at anyhow, we'd best be movin' off from hyar.  If ye can't go a
+great ways under kiver o' the night, I reck'n we kin put enough o'
+parairia atween us an' these Injuns to make sure agin thar spyin' us in
+the mornin'.  So let's start south-eastart, an' try for the sources o'
+the Red.  Thur's that ole beauty o' the North Star that's been my friend
+an' guide many's the good time.  Thar it is, makin' the handle o' the
+Plough, or the Great Bar, as I've heern that colleckshin o' stars
+freekwently called.  We've only to keep it on our left, a leetle torst
+the back o' the shoulder, an' then we're boun' to bring out on some o'
+the head-forks o' the Red--if we kin only last long enough to reach 'em.
+Darn it! thar's no danger; an' anyhow, thar's no help for't but try.
+Come along!"
+
+So speaking, the guide started forward--not in full stride, but timing
+his pace to suit the feeble steps of his disabled comrade.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
+
+A LILLIPUTIAN FOREST.
+
+Guiding their course by the stars the fugitives continue on--no longer
+going in a run, nor even in a very rapid walk.  Despite the resolution
+with which he endeavours to nerve himself, the wounded man is still too
+weak to make much progress, and he advances but laggingly.  His
+companion does not urge him to quicken his pace.  The experienced
+prairie man knows it will be better to go slowly than get broken down by
+straining forward too eagerly.  There is no sign or sound of Indian,
+either behind or before them.  The stillness of the desert is around
+them--its silence only interrupted by the "whip-whip" of the
+night-hawk's wings, and at intervals its soft note answering to the
+shriller cry of the kid-deer plover that rises screaming before their
+feet.  These, with the constant skirr of the ground-crickets and the
+prolonged whine of the coyote, are the only sounds that salute them as
+they glide on--none of which are of a kind to cause alarm.
+
+There appears no great reason for making haste now.  They have all the
+night before them, and, ere daylight can discover them, they will be
+sure to find some place of concealment.
+
+The ground is favourable to pedestrianism in the darkness.  The surface,
+hard-baked by the sun, is level as a set flagstone, and in most places
+so smooth that a carriage could run upon it as on the drive of a park.
+Well for them it is so.  Had the path been a rugged one the wounded man
+would not go far before giving out.  Even as it is, the toil soon begins
+to tell on his wasted strength.  His veins are almost emptied of blood.
+
+Nor do they proceed a very great distance before again coming to a halt;
+though far enough to feel sure that, standing erect, they cannot be
+descried by any one who may have ascended the cliff at the place where
+they took departure from it.
+
+But they have also reached that which offers them a chance of
+concealment--in short, a forest.  It is a forest not discernible at more
+than a mile's distance, for the trees that compose it are "shin oaks,"
+the tallest rising to the height of only eighteen inches above the
+surface of the ground.  Eighteen inches is enough to conceal the body of
+a man lying in a prostrate attitude; and as the Lilliputian trees grow
+thick as jimson weeds, the cover will be a secure one.  Unless the
+pursuers should stray so close as to tread upon them, there will be no
+danger of their being seen.  Further reflection has by this time
+satisfied them that the Indians are not upon the upper plain.  It is not
+likely, after the pains they had taken to smoke them in the cave and
+afterwards shut them up.  Besides, the distribution of the spoils would
+be an attraction sure to draw them back to the waggons, and speedily.
+
+Becoming satisfied that there is no longer a likelihood of their being
+pursued across the plain, Wilder proposes that they again make stop;
+this time to obtain sleep, which in their anxiety during their previous
+spell of rest they did not attempt.  He makes the proposal out of
+consideration for his comrade, who for some time, as he can see, has
+evidently been hard pressed to keep up with him.
+
+"We kin lie by till sun-up," says Walt; "an' then, if we see any sign o'
+pursoot, kin stay hyar till the sun goes down agin.  These shin oaks
+will gie us kiver enuf.  Squatted, there'll be no chance o' thar
+diskiverin' us, unless they stumble right atop o' us."  His companion is
+not in the mood to make objection, and the two lay themselves along the
+earth.  The miniature forest not only gives them the protection of a
+screen but a soft bed, as the tiny trunks and leaf-laden branches become
+pressed down beneath their bodies.
+
+They remain awake only long enough to give Hamersley's wound such
+dressing as the circumstances permit, and then both sink into slumber.
+
+With the young prairie merchant it is neither deep nor profound.  Horrid
+visions float before his rapt senses--scenes of red carnage--causing him
+ever and anon to awake with a start, once or twice with a cry that wakes
+his companion.
+
+Otherwise Walt Wilder would have slept as soundly as if reposing on the
+couch of a log cabin a thousand miles removed from any scene of danger.
+It is no new thing for him to go to sleep with the yell of savages
+sounding in his ears.  For a period of over twenty years he has daily,
+as nightly, stretched his huge form along mountain slope or level
+prairie, and often with far more danger of having his "hair raised"
+before rising erect again.  For ten years he belonged to the "Texas
+Rangers"--that strange organisation that has existed ever since Stephen
+Austin first planted his colony in the land of the "Lone Star."  If on
+this night the ex-Ranger is more than usually restless, it is from
+anxiety about his comrade, coupled with the state of his nervous system,
+stirred to feverish excitement by the terrible conflict through which
+they have just passed.  Notwithstanding all, he slumbers in long spells,
+at times snoring like an alligator.
+
+At no time does the ex-Ranger stand in need of much sleep, even after
+the most protracted toil.  Six hours is his usual daily or nocturnal
+dose; and as the grey dawn begins to glimmer over the tops of the shin
+oaks, he springs to his feet, shakes the dew from his shoulders like a
+startled stag, and then stoops down to examine the condition of his
+wounded comrade.
+
+"Don't ye git up yit, Frank," he says.  "We mustn't start till we hev a
+clar view all roun', an' be sure there's neery redskin in sight.  Then
+we kin take the sun a leetle on our left side, an' make tracks to the
+south-eastart.  How is't wi' ye?"
+
+"I feel weak as water.  Still I fancy I can travel a little farther."
+
+"Wall, we'll go slow.  Ef there's none o' the skunks arter us, we kin
+take our time.  Durn me!  I'm still a wonderin' what Injuns they war;
+I'm a'most sartint thar the Tenawa Kimanch--a band o' the Buffler-eaters
+an' the wust lot on all the parairia.  Many's the fight we rangers used
+to hev wi' 'em, and many's the one o' 'em this child hev rubbed out.  Ef
+I only hed my rifle hyar--durn the luck hevin' to desart that gun--I ked
+show you nine nicks on her timmer as stan' for nine Tenawa Kimanch.
+Ef't be them, we've got to keep well to the southart.  Thar range lays
+most in the Canadyen, or round the head o' Big Wichitu, an' they mout
+cross a corner o' the Staked Plain on thar way home.  Tharfer we must go
+southart a good bit, and try for the north fork o' the Brazos.  Ef we
+meet Indian thar, they'd be Southern Kimanch--not nigh sech feeroshus
+varmints as them.  Do you know, Frank, I've been hevin' a dream 'bout
+them Injuns as attacked us?"
+
+"A dream!  So have I.  It is not strange for either of us to dream of
+them.  What was yours, Walt?"
+
+"Kewrus enuf mine war, though it warn't all a dreem.  I reck'n I war
+more 'n half awake when I tuk to thinkin' about 'em, an' 'twar somethin'
+I seed durin' the skrimmage.  Didn't you observe nothin' queery?"
+
+"Rather say, nothing that was not that way.  It was all queer enough,
+and terrible, too."
+
+"That this child will admit wi' full freedom.  But I've f't redskin
+afore in all sorts an' shapes, yet niver seed redskin sech as them."
+
+"In what did they differ from other savages?  I saw nothing different."
+
+"But I did; leastways, I suspeck I did.  Didn't you spy 'mong the lot
+two or three that had ha'r on thar faces?"
+
+"Yes; I noticed that.  I thought nothing of it.  It's common among the
+Comanches and other tribes of the Mexican territory, many of whom are of
+mixed breed--from the captive Mexican women they have among them."
+
+"The ha'r I seed didn't look like it grew on the face o' a mixed blood."
+
+"But there are pure white men among them--outlaws who have run away from
+civilisation and turned renegades--as also captives they have taken, who
+become Indianised, as the Mexicans call it.  Doubtless it may have been
+some of these we saw."
+
+"Wall, you may be right, Frank.  Sartint thar war one I seed wi' a beard
+'most as big as my own--only it war black.  His hide war black, too, or
+nigh to it; but ef that skunk wan't white un'erneath a coatin' o'
+charcoal an' vermilion then Walt Wilder don't know a Kristyun from a
+heethun.  I ain't no use spek'latin' on't now.  White, black,
+yella-belly, or red, they've put us afoot on the parairia, an' kim
+darned nigh wipin' us out althegither.  We've got a fair chance o' goin'
+un'er yet, eyther from thirst or the famishment o' empty stomaks.  I'm
+hungry enuf already to eat a coyat.  Thar's a heavy row afore us, Frank,
+an' we must strengthen our hearts to hoein' o' it.  Wall, the sun's up;
+an' as thar don't appear to be any obstrukshun, I reck'n we'd best be
+makin' tracks."
+
+Hamersley slowly and somewhat reluctantly rises to his feet.  He still
+feels in poor condition for travelling.  But to stay there is to die;
+and bracing himself to the effort, he steps out side by side with his
+colossal companion.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER NINETEEN.
+
+THE DEPARTURE OF THE PLUNDERERS.
+
+On the day after the capture of the caravan the Indians, having consumed
+all the whisky found in the waggons, and become comparatively sober,
+prepared to move off.
+
+The captured goods, made up into convenient parcels, were placed upon
+mules and spare horses.  Of both they had plenty, having come prepared
+for such a sequel to their onslaught upon the traders.
+
+The warriors, having given interment to their dead comrades, leaving the
+scalped and mutilated corpses of the white men to the vultures and
+wolves, mounted and marched off.
+
+Before leaving the scene of their sanguinary exploit, they had drawn the
+waggons into a close clump and set fire to them, partly from a wanton
+instinct of destruction, partly from the pleasure of beholding a great
+bonfire, but also with some thoughts that it might be as well thus to
+blot out all the traces of a tragedy for which the Americans--of whom
+even these freebooters felt dread--might some day call them to account.
+
+They did not all go together, but separated into two parties on the spot
+where they had passed the night.  They were parties, however, of very
+unequal size, one of them numbering only four individuals.
+
+The other, which constituted the main body of the plunderers, was the
+band of the Tenawa Comanchey, under their chief, Horned Lizard.  These
+last turned eastward, struck off towards the head waters of the Big
+Witches, upon which and its tributaries lie their customary roving
+grounds.
+
+The lesser party went off in almost the opposite direction,
+south-westerly, leaving the Llano Estacado on their left, and journeying
+on, crossed the Rio Pecos at a point below and outside the farthest
+frontier settlement of New Mexico towards the prairies.  Then, shaping
+their course nearly due south, they skirted the spurs of the Sierra
+Blanca, that in this latitude extend eastward almost to the Pecos.
+
+On arriving near the place known as Gran Quivira--where once stood a
+prosperous Spanish town, devoted to gathering gold, now only a ruin,
+scarcely traceable, and altogether without record--they again changed
+their course, almost zigzagging back in a north-westerly direction.
+They were making towards a depression seen in the Sierra Blanca, as if
+with the intention to cross the mountains toward the valley of the Del
+Norte.  They might have reached the valley without this circumstance, by
+a trail well known and often travelled.  But it appeared as if this was
+just what they wanted to avoid.
+
+One of the men composing this party was he already remarked upon as
+having a large beard and whiskers.  A second was one of those spoken of
+as more slightly furnished with these appendages, while the other two
+were beardless.
+
+All four were of deep bronze complexion, and to all appearance
+pure-blooded aboriginals.  That the two with hirsute sign spoke to one
+another in Spanish was no sure evidence of their not being Indians.  It
+was within the limits of New Mexican territory, where there are many
+Indians who converse in Castilian as an ordinary language.
+
+He with the whiskered cheeks--the chief of the quartet, as well as the
+tallest of them--had not left behind the share of plunder that had been
+allotted to him.  It was still in his train, borne on the backs of seven
+strong mules, heavily loaded.  These formed an _atajo_ or pack-train,
+guided and driven by the two beardless men of the party, who seemed to
+understand mule driving as thoroughly as if they had been trained to the
+calling of the _arriero_; and perhaps so had they been.
+
+The other two took no trouble with the pack-animals, but rode on in
+front, conversing _sans souci_, and in a somewhat jocular vein.
+
+The heavily-bearded man was astride a splendid black horse; not a
+Mexican mustang, like that of his companions, but a large sinewy animal,
+that showed the breed of Kentucky.  And so should he--since he was the
+same steed Frank Hamersley had been compelled to leave behind in that
+rapid rush into the crevice of the cliff.
+
+"This time, Roblez, we've made a pretty fair haul of it," remarked he
+who bestrode the black.  "What with the silks and laces--to say nothing
+of this splendid mount between my legs--I think I may say that our time
+has not been thrown away."
+
+"Yours hasn't, anyhow.  My share won't be much."
+
+"Come, come, _teniente_! don't talk in that way.  You should be
+satisfied with a share proportioned to your rank.  Besides, you must
+remember the man who puts down the stake has the right to draw the
+winnings.  But for me there would have been no spoils to share.  Isn't
+it so?"
+
+This truth seeming to produce an impression on Roblez's mind, he made
+response in the affirmative.
+
+"Well, I'm glad you acknowledge it," pursued the rider of the black.
+"Let there be no disputes between us; for you know, Roblez, we can't
+afford to quarrel.  You shall have a liberal percentage on this lucky
+venture; I promise it.  By the bye, how much do you think the plunder
+ought to realise?"
+
+"Well," responded Roblez, restored to a cheerful humour, "if properly
+disposed of in El Paso or Chihuahua, the lot ought to fetch from fifteen
+to twenty thousand dollars.  I see some silk-velvet among the stuff that
+would sell high, if you could get it shown to the rich damsels of
+Durango or Zacatecas.  One thing sure, you've got a good third of the
+caravan stock."
+
+"Ha! ha!  More than half of it in value.  The Horned lizard went in for
+bulk.  I let him have it to his heart's content.  He thinks more of
+those cheap cotton prints, with their red and green and yellow flowers,
+than all the silk ever spun since the days of Mother Eve.  Ha! ha! ha!"
+
+The laugh, in which Roblez heartily joined, was still echoing on the air
+as the two horsemen entered a pass leading through the mountains.  It
+was the depression in the sierra, seen shortly after parting with the
+Horned Lizard and his band.  It was a pass rugged with rock, and almost
+trackless, here and there winding about, and sometimes continued through
+canons or clefts barely wide enough to give way to the mules with the
+loads upon their backs.
+
+For all this the animals of the travellers seemed to journey along it
+without difficulty, only the American horse showing signs of
+awkwardness.  All the others went as if they had trodden it before.
+
+For several hours they kept on through this series of canons and
+gorges--here and there crossing a transverse ridge that, cutting off a
+bend, shortened the distance.
+
+Just before sunset the party came to a halt; not in the defile itself,
+but in one of still more rugged aspect, that led laterally into the side
+of the mountain.  In this there was no trace or sign of travel--no
+appearance of its having been entered by man or animal.
+
+Yet the horse ridden by Roblez, and the pack-mules coming after, entered
+with as free a step as if going into a well-known enclosure.  True, the
+chief of the party, mounted on the Kentucky steed, had gone in before
+them; though this scarce accounted for their confidence.
+
+Up this unknown gorge they rode until they had reached its end.  There
+was no outlet, for it was a _cul-de-sac_--a natural court--such as are
+often found among the amygdaloidal mountains of Mexico.
+
+At its extremity, where it narrowed to a width of about fifty feet, lay
+a huge boulder of granite that appeared to block up the path; though
+there was a clear space between it and the cliff rising vertically
+behind it.
+
+The obstruction was only apparent, and did not cause the leading savage
+of the party to make even a temporary stop.  At one side there was an
+opening large enough to admit the passage of a horse; and into this he
+rode, Roblez following, and also the mules in a string, one after the
+other.
+
+Behind the boulder was an open space of a few square yards, of extent
+sufficient to allow room for turning a horse.  The savage chief wheeled
+his steed, and headed him direct for the cliff; not with the design of
+dashing his brains against the rock, but to force him into a cavern,
+whose entrance showed its disc in the facade of the precipice, dark and
+dismal as the door of an Inquisitorial prison.
+
+The horse snorted, and shied back; but the ponderous Mexican spur, with
+its long sharp rowel-points, soon drove him in; whither he was followed
+by the mustang of Roblez and the mules--the latter going in as
+unconcernedly as if entering a stable whose stalls were familiar to
+them.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY.
+
+A TRANSFORMATION.
+
+It was well on in the afternoon of the following day before the four
+spoil-laden savages who had sought shelter in the cave again showed
+themselves outside.  Then came they filing forth, one after the other,
+in the same order as they had entered; but so changed in appearance that
+no one seeing them come out of the cavern could by any possibility have
+recognised them as the same men who had the night before gone into it.
+Even their animals had undergone some transformation.  The horses were
+differently caparisoned; the flat American saddle having been removed
+from the back of the grand Kentucky steed, and replaced by the deep-tree
+Mexican _silla_, with its _corona_ of stamped leather and wooden
+_estribos_.  The mules, too, were rigged in a different manner, each
+having the regular _alpareja_, or pack-saddle, with the broad
+_apishamores_ breeched upon its hips; while the spoils, no longer in
+loose, carelessly tied-up bundles, were made up into neat packs, as
+goods in regular transportation by an _atajo_.
+
+The two men who conducted them had altogether a changed appearance.
+Their skins were still of the same colour--the pure bronze-black of the
+Indian--but, instead of the eagle's feathers late sticking up above
+their crowns, both had their heads now covered with simple straw hats;
+while sleeveless coats of coarse woollen stuff, with stripes running
+transversely--_tilmas_--shrouded their shoulders, their limbs having
+free play in white cotton drawers of ample width.  A leathern belt, and
+apron of reddish-coloured sheepskin, tanned, completed the costume of an
+_arriero_ of the humbler class--the _mozo_, or assistant.
+
+But the change in the two other men--the chief and him addressed as
+Roblez--was of a far more striking kind.  They had entered the cave as
+Indians, warriors of the first rank, plumed, painted, and adorned with
+all the devices and insignia of savage heraldry.  They came out of it as
+white men, wearing the costume of well-to-do rancheros--or rather that
+of town traders--broad glazed hats upon their heads, cloth jackets and
+trousers--the latter having the seats and insides of the legs fended
+with a lining of stamped leather; boots with heavy spurs upon their
+feet, crape sashes around the waist, machetes strapped along the flaps
+of their saddles, and seraphs resting folded over the croup, gave the
+finishing touch to their travelling equipment.  These, with the well
+appointed _atajo_ of mules, made the party one of peaceful merchants
+transporting their merchandise from town to town.
+
+On coming out of the cave, the leader, looking fresh and bright from his
+change of toilet and late purification of his skin, glanced up towards
+the sky, as if to consult the sun as to the hour.  At the same time he
+drew a gold watch from his vest pocket, and looked also at that.
+
+"We'll be just in the right time, Roblez," he said.  "Six hours yet
+before sunset.  That will get us out into the valley, and in the river
+road.  We're not likely to meet any one after nightfall in these days of
+Indian alarms.  Four more will bring us to Albuquerque, long after the
+sleepy townsfolk have gone to bed.  We've let it go late enough, anyhow,
+and mustn't delay here any longer.  Look well to your mules, _mozos!
+Vamonos_!"
+
+At the word all started together down the gorge, the speaker, as before,
+leading the way, Roblez next, and the mozos with their laden mules
+stringing out in the rear.
+
+Soon after, they re-entered the mountain defile, and, once more heading
+north-westward, silently continued on for the valley of the Rio del
+Norte.  Their road, as before, led tortuously through canons and rugged
+ravines--no road at all, but a mere bridle path, faintly indicated by
+the previous passage of an occasional wayfarer or the tracks of straying
+cattle.
+
+The sun was just sinking over the far western Cordilleras when the
+precipitous wall of the Sierra Blanca, opening wider on each side of the
+defile, disclosed to the spoil-laden party a view of the broad level
+plain known as the valley of the Del Norte.
+
+Soon after, they had descended to it; and in the midst of night, with a
+starry sky overhead, were traversing the level road upon which the broad
+wheel-tracks of rude country carts--_carretas_--told of the proximity of
+settlements.  It was a country road, leading out from the foot-hills of
+the sierra to a crossing of the river, near the village of Tome, where
+it intersected with the main route of travel running from El Paso in the
+south through all the riverine towns of New Mexico.
+
+Turning northward from Tome, the white robbers, late disguised as
+Indians, pursued their course towards the town of Albuquerque.  Any one
+meeting them on the road would have mistaken them for a party of traders
+_en route_ from the Rio Abajo to the capital of Santa Fe.
+
+But they went not so far.  Albuquerque was the goal of their journey,
+though on arriving there--which they did a little after midnight--they
+made no stop in the town, nor any noise to disturb its inhabitants, at
+that hour asleep.
+
+Passing silently through the unpaved streets, they kept on a little
+farther.  A large house or hacienda, tree shaded, and standing outside
+the suburbs, was the stopping place they were aiming at; and towards
+this they directed their course.  There was a _mirador_ or belvidere
+upon the roof--the same beside which Colonel Miranda and his American
+guest, just twelve months before, had stood smoking cigars.
+
+As then, there was a guard of soldiers within the covered entrance, with
+a sentry outside the gate.  He was leaning against the postern, his form
+in the darkness just distinguishable against the grey-white of the wall.
+
+"_Quien-viva_?" he hailed as the two horsemen rode up, the hoof-strokes
+startling him out of a half-drunken doze.
+
+"_El Coronel-Commandante_!" responded the tall man in a tone that told
+of authority.
+
+It proved to be countersign sufficient, the speaker's voice being
+instantly recognised.
+
+The sentry, bringing his piece to the salute, permitted the horsemen to
+pass without further parley, as also the _atajo_ in their train, all
+entering and disappearing within the dark doorway, just as they had made
+entrance into the mouth of the mountain cavern.
+
+While listening to the hoof-strokes of the animals ringing on the
+pavement of the _patio_ inside, the sentinel had his reflections and
+conjectures.  He wondered where the colonel-commandant could have been
+to keep him so long absent from his command, and he had perhaps other
+conjectures of an equally perplexing nature.  They did not much trouble
+him, however.  What mattered it to him how the commandant employed his
+time, or where it was spent, so long as he got his _sueldo_ and rations?
+He had them with due regularity, and with this consoling reflection he
+wrapped his yellow cloak around him, leaned against the wall, and soon
+after succumbed to the state of semi-watchfulness from which the
+unexpected event had aroused him.
+
+"Carrambo!" exclaimed the Colonel to his subordinate, when, after
+looking to the stowage of the plunder, the two men sat together in a
+well-furnished apartment of the hacienda, with a table, decanters, and
+glasses between them.  "It's been a long, tedious tramp, hasn't it?
+Well, we've not wasted our time, nor had our toil for nothing.  Come,
+_teniente_, fill your glass again, and let us drink to our commercial
+adventure.  Here's that in the disposal of our goods we may be as
+successful as in their purchase!"
+
+Right merrily the lieutenant refilled his glass, and responded to the
+toast of his superior officer.
+
+"I suspect, Roblez," continued the Colonel, "that you have been all the
+while wondering how I came to know about this caravan whose spoil is to
+enrich us--its route--the exact time of its arrival, the strength of its
+defenders--everything?  You think our friend the Horned Lizard gave me
+all this information."
+
+"No, I don't; since that could not well be.  How was Horned Lizard to
+know himself--that is, in time to have sent word to you?  In truth, _mio
+Coronel_, I am, as you say, in a quandary about all that.  I cannot even
+guess at the explanation."
+
+"This would give it to you, if you could read; but I know you cannot,
+_mio teniente_; your education has been sadly neglected.  Never mind, I
+shall read it for you."
+
+As the colonel was speaking he had taken from the drawer of a cabinet
+that stood close by a sheet of paper folded in the form of a letter.  It
+was one, though it bore no postmark.  For all that, it looked as if it
+had travelled far--perchance carried by hand.  It had in truth come all
+the way across the prairies.  Its superscription was:--
+
+"El Coronel Miranda, Commandante del Distrito Militario de Albuquerque,
+Nuevo Mexico."
+
+Its contents, also in Spanish, translated read thus:--
+
+"My dear Colonel Miranda,--I am about to carry out the promise made to
+you at our parting.  I have my mercantile enterprise in a forward state
+of readiness for a start over the plains.  My caravan will not be a
+large one, about six or seven waggons with less than a score of men; but
+the goods I take are valuable in an inverse ratio to their bulk--
+designed for the `ricos' of your country.  I intend taking departure
+from the frontier town of Van Buren, in the State of Arkansas, and shall
+go by a new route lately discovered by one of our prairie traders, that
+leads part way along the Canadian river, by you called `Rio de la
+Canada,' and skirting the great plain of the Llano Estacado at its upper
+end.  This southern route makes us more independent of the season, so
+that I shall be able to travel in the fall.  If nothing occur to delay
+me in the route, I shall reach New Mexico about the middle of November,
+when I anticipate renewing those relations of a pleasant friendship in
+which you have been all the giver and I all the receiver.
+
+"I send this by one of the spring caravans starting from Independence
+for Santa Fe, in the hope that it will safely reach you.
+
+"I subscribe myself, dear Colonel Miranda,--
+
+"Your grateful friend,--
+
+"Francis Hamersley."
+
+"Well, _teniente_," said his Colonel, as he refolded the far-fetched
+epistle, and returned it to the drawer, "do you comprehend matters any
+clearer now?"
+
+"Clear as the sun that shines over the Llano Estacado," was the reply of
+the lieutenant, whose admiration for the executive qualities of his
+superior officer, along with the bumpers he had imbibed, had now exalted
+his fancy to a poetical elevation.  "_Carrai-i!  Esta un golpe
+magnifico_!  (It's a splendid stroke!)  Worthy of Manuel Armilo himself.
+Or even the great Santa Anna!"
+
+"A still greater stroke than you think it, for it is double--two birds
+killed with the same stone.  Let us again drink to it!"
+
+The glasses were once more filled, and once more did the associated
+bandits toast the nefarious enterprise they had so successfully
+accomplished.
+
+Then Roblez rose to go to the _cuartel_ or barracks, where he had his
+place of sleeping and abode, bidding _buena noche_ to his colonel.
+
+The latter also bethought him of bed, and, taking a lamp from the table,
+commenced moving towards his _cuarto de camara_.
+
+On coming opposite a picture suspended against the _sala_ wall--the
+portrait of a beautiful girl--he stopped in front, for a moment gazed
+upon it, and then into a mirror that stood close by.
+
+As if there was something in the glass that reflected its shadow into
+his very soul, the expression of exultant triumph, so lately depicted
+upon his face, was all at once swept from it, giving place to a look of
+blank bitterness.
+
+"One is gone," he said, in a half-muttered soliloquy; "one part of the
+stain wiped out--thanks to the Holy Virgin for that.  But the other; and
+she--where, where?"
+
+And with these words he staggered on towards his chamber.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
+
+STRUGGLING AMONG THE SAGES.
+
+It is the fourth day after forsaking the couch among the shin oaks, and
+the two fugitives are still travelling upon the Llano Estacado.  They
+have made little more than sixty miles to the south-eastward, and have
+not yet struck any of the streams leading out to the lower level of the
+Texan plain.
+
+Their progress has been slow; for the wounded man, instead of recovering
+strength, has grown feebler.  His steps are now unequal and tottering.
+In addition to the loss of blood, something else has aided to disable
+him--the fierce cravings of hunger and the yet more insufferable agony
+of thirst.
+
+His companion is similarly afflicted; if not in so great a degree,
+enough to make him also stagger in his steps.  Neither has had any water
+since the last drop drank amid the waggons, before commencing the fight;
+and since then a fervent sun shining down upon them, with no food save
+crickets caught in the plain, an occasional horned frog, and some fruit
+of the _opuntia_ cactus--the last obtained sparingly.
+
+Hunger has made havoc with both, sad and quick.  Already at the end of
+the fourth day their forms are wasted.  They are more like spectres than
+men.
+
+And the scene around them is in keeping.  The plain, far as the eye can
+reach, is covered with _artemisia_, whose hoary foliage, in close
+contact at the tops, displays a continuation of surface like a vast
+winding-sheet spread over the world.
+
+Across this fall the shadows of the two men, proportioned to their
+respective heights.  That of the ex-Ranger extends nearly a mile before
+him; for the sun is low down, and they have its beams upon their backs.
+
+They are facing eastward, in the hope of being able to reach the brow of
+the Llano where it abuts on the Texan prairies; though in the heart of
+one of them this hope is nearly dead.  Frank Hamersley has but slight
+hopes that he will ever again see the homes of civilisation, or set foot
+upon its frontier.  Even the ci-devant Ranger inclines to a similar way
+of thinking.
+
+Not far off are other animated beings that seem to rejoice.  The shadows
+of the two men are not the only ones that move over the sunlit face of
+the artemisia.  There, too, are outlined the wings of birds--large birds
+with sable plumage and red naked necks, whose species both know well.
+They are _zopilotes_--the vultures of Mexico.
+
+A score of such shadows are flitting over the sage--a score of the birds
+are wheeling in the air above.
+
+It is a sight to pain the traveller, even when seen at a distance.  Over
+his own head it may well inspire him with fear.  He cannot fail to read
+in it a forecast of his own fate.
+
+The birds are following the two men, as they would a wounded buffalo or
+stricken deer.  They soar and circle above them, at times swooping
+portentously near.  They do not believe them to be spectres.  Wasted as
+their flesh may be, there will still be a banquet upon their bones.
+
+Now and then Walt Wilder casts a glance up towards them.  He is anxious,
+though he takes care to hide his anxiety from his comrade.  He curses
+the foul creatures, not in speech--only in heart, and silently.
+
+For a time the wearied wayfarers keep on without exchanging a word.
+Hitherto consolation has come from the side of the ex-Ranger; but he
+seems to have spent his last effort, and is himself now despairing.
+
+In Hamersley's heart hope has been gradually dying out, as his strength
+gets further exhausted.  At length the latter gives way, the former at
+the same time.
+
+"No farther, Walt!" he exclaims, coming to a stop.  "I can't go a step
+further.  There is a fire in my throat that chokes me; something grips
+me within.  It is dragging me to the ground."
+
+The hunter stops too.  He makes no attempt to urge his comrade on.  He
+perceives it would be idle.
+
+"Go on yourself," Hamersley adds, gasping out the words.  "You have yet
+strength left, and may reach water.  I cannot, but I can die, I'm not
+afraid to die.  Leave me, Walt; leave me!"
+
+"Niver!" is the response, in a hoarse, husky voice, but firm, as if it
+came from a speaking-trumpet.
+
+"You will; you must.  Why should two lives be sacrificed for one?  Yours
+may still be saved.  Take the gun along with you.  You may find
+something.  Go, comrade--friend--go!"
+
+Again the same response, in a similar tone.
+
+"I sayed, when we were in the fight," adds the hunter, "an' aterwards,
+when gallupin' through the smoke, that livin' or dyin' we'd got to stick
+thegither.  Didn't I say that, Frank Hamersley?  I repeat it now.  Ef
+you go unner hyar in the middle o' this sage-brush, Walt Wilder air
+goin' to wrap his karkiss in a corner o' the same windin' sheet.  There
+ain't much strength remainin' in my arms now, but enuf, I reck'n, to
+keep them buzzarts off for a good spell yit.  They don't pick our bones
+till I've thinned thar count anyhow.  Ef we air to be rubbed out, it'll
+be by the chokin' o' thirst, and not the gripin' o' hunger.  What durned
+fools we've been, not to a-thinked o' 't afore! but who'd iver think o'
+eatin' turkey buzzart?  Wall, it's die dog or swaller the hatchet; so
+onpalatable as thar flesh may be, hyar goes to make a meal o' it!"
+
+While speaking, he has carried the gun to his shoulder.
+
+Simultaneous with his last words comes the crack, quickly followed by
+the descent of a zopilote among the sages.
+
+"Now, Frank," he says, stooping to pick up the dead bird, while the
+scared flock flies farther away, "let's light a bit o' a fire, an' cook
+it.  Thar's plenty o' sage for the stuffin', an' its own flavour'll do
+for seasonin' 'stead o' inyuns.  I reck'n we kin git some o' it down, by
+holdin' our noses; an' at all events, it'll keep us alive a leetle
+longer.  Wagh, ef we only hed water!"
+
+As if a fresh hope has come suddenly across his mind, he once more
+raises himself erect to the full stretch of his gigantic stature, and
+standing thus, gazes eastwardly across the plain.
+
+"Thar's a ridge o' hills out that way," he says.  "I'd jest spied it
+when you spoke o' giein out.  Whar thar's hills, thar's a likelihood o'
+streams.  Sposin', Frank, you stay hyar, whiles I make tracks torst
+them.  They look like they wa'n't mor'n ten miles off anyhow.  I ked
+easy get back by the mornin'.  D'ye think ye kin hold out thet long by
+swallerin' a bit o' the buzzart?"
+
+"I think I could hold out that long as well without it.  It's more the
+thirst that's killing me.  I feel as if liquid fire was coursing through
+my veins.  If you believe there be any chance of finding water, go,
+Walt."
+
+"I'll do so; but don't you sturve in the meanwhile.  Cook the critter
+afore lettin' it kim to thet.  Ye've got punk, an' may make a fire o'
+the sage-brush.  I don't intend to run the risk o' sturvin' myself; an'
+as I mayn't find any thin' on the way, I'll jest take one o' these
+sweet-smellin' chickens along wi' me."
+
+He has already re-loaded the rifle; and, once more pointing its muzzle
+towards the sky, he brings down a second of the zopilotes.
+
+"Now," he says, taking up the foul carcase, and slinging it to his belt,
+"keep up your heart till this chile return to ye.  I'm sure o' gettin'
+back by the mornin'; an' to make sartint 'bout the place, jest you squat
+unner the shadder o' yon big palmetto--the which I can see far enuff off
+to find yur wharabouts 'thout any defeequelty."
+
+The palmetto spoken of is, in truth, not a "palmetto," though a plant of
+kindred genus.  It is a _yucca_ of a species peculiar to the high table
+plains of Northern and Central Mexico, with long sword-shaped leaves
+springing aloe-like from a core in the centre, and radiating in all
+directions, so as to form a spherical chevaux-de-frize.  Its top stands
+nearly six feet above the surface of the ground, and high over the
+artemisias; while its dark, rigid spikes, contrasted with the frosted
+foliage of the sage, render it a conspicuous landmark that can be seen
+far off over the level plain.
+
+Staggering on till he has reached it, Hamersley drops down on its
+eastern side, where its friendly shadow gives him protection from the
+sun, fervid, though setting; while that of Walt Wilder is still
+projected to its full length upon the plain.  Saying not another word,
+with the rifle across his shoulder and the turkey buzzard dangling down
+his thigh, he takes departure from the spot, striking eastward towards
+the high land dimly discernible on the horizon.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.
+
+A HUNTRESS.
+
+"_Vamos_, Lolita! hold up, my pretty pet!  Two leagues more, and you
+shall bury that velvet snout of yours in the soft _gramma_ grass, and
+cool your heated hoof in a crystal stream.  Ay, and you shall have a
+half peck of pinon nuts for your supper, I promise you.  You have done
+well to-day, but don't let us get belated.  At night, as you know, we
+might be lost on the Llano, and the wicked wolves eat us both up.  That
+would be a sad thing, _mia yegua_.  We must not let them have a chance
+to dispose of us in that manner.  _Adelante_!"
+
+Lolita is a mustang pony of clear chestnut colour, with white mane and
+tail; while the person thus apostrophising her is a young girl seated
+astride upon its back.
+
+A beautiful girl, apparently under twenty of age, but with a certain
+commanding mien that gives her the appearance of being older.  Her
+complexion, though white, has a tinge of that golden brown, or olive,
+oft observed in the Andalusian race; while scimitar shaped eyebrows,
+with hair of silken texture, black as the shadows of night, and a dark
+down on the upper lip, plainly proclaim the Moorish admixture.
+
+It is a face of lovely cast and almost Grecian contour, with features of
+classic regularity; while the absence of obliquity in the orbs of the
+eye--despite the dusky hue of her akin--forbids the belief in Indian
+blood.
+
+Although in a part of the world where such might be expected, there is,
+in truth, not a taint of it in her veins.  The olivine tint is Hispano
+Moriscan--a complexion, if not more beautiful, certainly more
+picturesque than that of the Saxon blonde.
+
+With the damask-red dancing out upon her cheeks, her eyes aglow from the
+equestrian exercise she has been taking, the young girl looks the
+picture of physical health; while the tranquil expression upon her
+features tells of mental contentment.
+
+Somewhat singular is her costume, as the equipment.  As already said,
+she bestrides her mustang man-fashion, the mode of Mexico; while a light
+fowling-piece, suspended _en bandouliere_, hangs down behind her back.
+
+A woollen seraph of finest wool lies scarf-like across her left
+shoulder, half concealing a velveteen vest or spencer, close-buttoned
+over the rounded hemispheres of her bosom.  Below, an embroidered
+skirt--the _enagua_--is continued by a pair of white _calzoncillas_,
+with fringe falling over her small feet, they are booted and spurred.
+
+On her head is a hat of soft vicuna wool, with a band of bullion, a
+bordering of gold lace around the rim, and a plume of heron's feather
+curving above the crown.
+
+This, with her attitude on horseback, might seem _outre_ in the eyes of
+a stranger to the customs of her country.  The gun and its concomitant
+accoutrements give her something of a masculine appearance, and at the
+first glance might cause her to be mistaken for a man--a beardless
+youth.
+
+But the long silken tresses scattered loosely over her shoulders, the
+finely-cut features, the delicate texture of the skin, the petticoat
+skirt, the small hand, with slender tapering fingers stretched forward
+to caress the neck of the mustang mare, are signs of femininity not to
+be misunderstood.
+
+A woman--a huntress; the character clearly proclaimed by a brace of
+hounds--large dogs of the mastiff bloodhound breed--following at the
+heels of the horse.  And a huntress who has been successful in the
+chase--as proved by two prong-horn antelopes, with shanks tied together,
+lying like saddle-bags across the croup.
+
+The mustang mare needs no spur beyond the sound of that sweet well-known
+voice.  At the word _adelante_ (forward) she pricks up her ears, gives a
+wave of her snow-white tail, and breaks into a gentle canter, the hounds
+loping after in long-stretching trot.
+
+For about ten minutes is this pace continued; when a bird flying athwart
+the course, so close that its wings almost brush Lolita's muzzle, causes
+her rider to lean back in the saddle and check her suddenly up.
+
+The bird is a black vulture--a zopilote.  It is not slowly soaring in
+the usual way, but shooting in a direct line, and swiftly as an arrow
+sent from the bow.
+
+This it is that brings the huntress to a halt; and for a time she
+remained motionless, her eye following the vulture in its flight.
+
+It is seen to join a flock of its fellows, so far off as to look like
+specks.  The young girl can perceive that they are not flying in any
+particular direction, but swooping in circles, as if over some quarry
+that lies below.  Whatever it is, they do not appear to have yet touched
+it.  All keep aloft, none of them alighting on the ground, though at
+times stooping down, and skimming close to the tops of the sage-bushes
+with which the plain is thickly beset.
+
+These last prevent the huntress from seeing what lies upon the ground;
+though she knows there must be something to have attracted the concourse
+of zopilotes.  Evidently she has enough knowledge of the desert to
+understand its signs, and this is one of a significant character.  It
+not only challenges curiosity, but calls for investigation.
+
+"Something gone down yonder, and not yet dead?" she mutters, in
+interrogative soliloquy.  "I wonder what it can be!  I never look on
+those filthy birds without fear.  _Santissima_! how they made me shudder
+that time when they flapped their black wings in my own face!  I pity
+any poor creature threatened by them--even where it but a coyote.  It
+may be that, or an antelope.  Nothing else likely to become their prey
+on this bare plain.  Come, Lolita! let us go on and see what they're
+after.  It will take us a little out of our way, and give you some extra
+work.  You won't mind that, my pet?  I know you won't."
+
+The mare wheels round at a slight pressure upon the rein; and then
+commenced her canter in the direction of the soaring flock.
+
+A mile is passed over, and the birds are brought near; but still the
+object attracting them cannot be seen.  It may be down among the
+artemisias, or perhaps behind a large yucca, whose dark whorl rises
+several feet above the sage, and over which the vultures are wheeling.
+
+As the rider of Lolita arrives within gun-shot distance of the
+yucca-tree she checks the mustang to a slower pace--to a walk in short.
+In the spectacle of death, in the throes and struggles of an expiring
+creature, even though it be but a dumb brute, there is something that
+never fails to excite commiseration, mingled with a feeling of awe.
+This last has come over the young girl, as she draws near the spot where
+the birds are seen circling.
+
+It has not occurred to her that the cause of their presence may be a
+human being, though it is a remembrance of this kind that now prompts
+her to ride forward reflectively.  For once in her life, with others
+around her who were near and dear, she has been herself an object of
+like eager solicitude to a flock of zopilotes.
+
+But she has not the slightest suspicion of its being a human creature
+that causes their gathering now.  There, upon the Llano Estacado, so
+rarely trodden by human feet, and even shunned by almost every species
+of animal, she could not.
+
+As she draws still nearer, a black disc, dimly outlined against the dark
+green leaves of the yucca, upon scrutiny, betrays the form of a bird,
+itself a vulture.  It is dead, impaled upon the sharp spikes of the
+plant, as it came there by falling from above.
+
+A smile curls upon her lips as she sits regarding it.
+
+"So, _yegua_!" she says, bringing the mare to a stand, and half-turning
+her.  "I've been losing my time and you your labour.  The abominable
+birds--it's only one of themselves that has dropped dead, and they're
+holding a _velorio_ over it."
+
+She continues, again facing towards the dead vulture.
+
+"Now, I wonder if they are only waking it, or if the wakers are
+cannibals, and intend making a repast on one of their own kind.  That
+would be a curious fact for our natural historian, Don Prospero.
+Suppose we stay awhile and see?"
+
+For a moment she seems undecided as to staying or going.  Only for a
+moment, when an incident occurs that changes the current of her thoughts
+from scientific curiosity to something of fear.
+
+The bloodhounds that have lagged behind in the scurry across the plain,
+now close up; and, instead of stopping by the side of Lolita, rush on
+towards the yucca.  It is not the odour of the dead buzzard--strong as
+that may be--that attracts them; but the scent of what is more congenial
+to their sanguinary instincts.
+
+On arriving at the tree they run round to its opposite side; and then
+spring growling back, as if something they have encountered there has
+suddenly brought them to bay.
+
+"A wounded bear or wolf!" is the muttered reflection of their mistress.
+
+It has scarce passed her lips, when she is made aware of her mistake.
+Above the continued baying of the dogs she can distinguish the tones of
+a human voice; and at the same instant, a man's head and arm appear
+above the spikes of the plant--a hand clutching the hilt of a
+long-bladed knife!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
+
+"DOWN, DOGS!"
+
+Notwithstanding her apparent _sang-froid_, and the presence of mind she
+surely possesses, the rider of Lolita is affrighted--far more than the
+vultures, that have soared higher at her approach.
+
+And no wonder that she is affrighted at such a strange apparition--the
+head of a man, with a dark moustache on his lip, holding in his hand a
+blade that shows blood upon it!  This, too, in such a solitary place!
+
+Her first thought is to turn Lolita's head and hurry off from the spot.
+Then a reflection stays her.  The man is evidently alone, and the
+expression on his countenance is neither that of villainy nor anger.
+The colour of his skin, with the moustache, bespeak him a white man, and
+not an Indian.  Besides, there is pallor upon his cheeks--a wan, wasted
+look, that tells of suffering, not sin.
+
+All this the quick eye of the huntress takes in at a glance, resolving
+her how to act.  Instead of galloping away she urges the mustang on
+towards the yucca.
+
+When close up to it she flings herself out of the saddle, and, whip in
+hand, rushes up to the hounds, that are still giving tongue and
+threatening to spring upon the stranger.
+
+"_Abajo, perros! abajo, feos_!"  (Down, dogs! down, you ugly brutes!)
+
+"_A tierra_!" she continues to scold, giving each a sharp cut that at
+once reduces them to quiescence, causing them to cower at her feet.  "Do
+you not see the mistake you have made?" she goes on addressing the dogs;
+"don't you see the caballero is not an Indio?  It is well, sir!" she
+adds, turning to the caballero, "well that your skin is white.  Had it
+been copper-coloured, I'm not certain I could have saved you from
+getting it torn.  My pets are not partial to the American aboriginal."
+
+During these somewhat bizarre speeches and the actions that accompany
+them, Frank Hamersley--for it is he--stands staring in silent wonder.
+What sees he before him?  Two huge, fierce-looking dogs, a horse oddly
+caparisoned, a young girl, scarce a woman, strangely and picturesquely
+garbed.  What has he heard?  First, the loud baying of two bloodhounds,
+threatening to tear him to pieces; then a voice, sweet and musical as
+the warbling of a bird!
+
+Is it all a dream?
+
+Dreaming he had been, when aroused by the growling of the dogs.  But
+that was a horrid vision.  What he now sees is the very reverse.  Demons
+had been assaulting him in his sleep.  Now there is an angel before his
+eyes.
+
+The young girl has ceased speaking; and as the vertigo, caused by his
+sudden uprising, has cleared away from his brain, he begins to believe
+in the reality of the objects around him.
+
+The shock of surprise has imparted a momentary strength that soon
+passes; and his feebleness once more returning, he would fall back to
+the earth did he not clutch hold of the yucca, whose stiff blades
+sustain him.
+
+"_Valga me Dios_!" exclaims the girl, now more clearly perceiving his
+condition.  "_Ay de mi_!" she repeats in a compassionate tone, "you are
+suffering, sir?  Is it hunger?  Is it thirst?  You have been lost upon
+the Llano Estacado?"
+
+"Hunger, thirst--both, senorita," he answers, speaking for the first
+time.  "For days I have not tasted either food or drink."
+
+"_Virgen santissima_! is that so?"
+
+As she says this she returns to her horse; and, jerking a little wallet
+from the saddle, along, with a suspended gourd, again advances towards
+him.
+
+"Here, senor!" she says, plunging her hand into the bag and bringing
+forth some cold _tortillas_, "this is all I have; I've been the whole
+day from home, and the rest I've eaten.  Take the water first; no doubt
+you need that most.  I remember how I suffered myself.  Mix some of this
+with it.  Trust me, it will restore your strength."
+
+While speaking she hands him the gourd, which, by its weight, contains
+over a pint; and then from another and smaller one she pours some liquid
+first into the water and then over the tortillas.  It is vinegar, in
+which there is an infusion of _chile Colorado_.
+
+"Am I not robbing you?" inquires Hamersley, as he casts a significant
+glance over the wide, sterile plain.
+
+"No, no!  I am not in need, besides I have no great way to go to where I
+can get a fresh supply.  Drink, senor, drink it all."
+
+In ten seconds after the calabash is empty.
+
+"Now eat the tortillas.  'Tis but poor fare, but the _chili vinagre_
+will be sure to strengthen you.  We who dwell in the desert know that."
+
+Her words proved true, for after swallowing a few morsels of the bread
+she has besprinkled, the famished man feels as if some restorative
+medicine had been administered to him.
+
+"Do you think you are able to ride?" she asks.
+
+"I can walk--though, perhaps, not very far."
+
+"If you can ride there is no need for your walking.  You can mount my
+mare; I shall go afoot.  It is not very far--only six miles."
+
+"But," protests he, "I must not leave this spot."
+
+"Indeed!" she exclaims, turning upon her _protege_ a look of surprise.
+"For what reason, senor?  To stay here would be to perish.  You have no
+companions to care for you?"
+
+"I have companions--at least, one.  That is why I must remain.  Whether
+he may return to assist me I know not.  He has gone off in search of
+water.  In any case, he will be certain to seek for me."
+
+"But why should you stay for him?"
+
+"Need you ask, senorita?  He is my comrade, true and faithful.  He has
+been the sharer of my dangers--of late no common ones.  If he were to
+come back and find me gone--"
+
+"What need that signify, caballero?  He will know where to come after
+you."
+
+"How should he know?"
+
+"Oh, that will be easy enough.  Leave it to me.  Are you sure he will
+find his way back to this place?"
+
+"Quite sure.  This tree will guide him.  He arranged it so before
+leaving."
+
+"In that case, there's not any reason for your remaining.  On the
+contrary.  I can see that you need a better bed than sleeping among
+these sage-plants.  I know one who will give it.  Come with me,
+caballero?  By the time your comrade can get back there'll be one here
+to meet him.  Lest he should arrive before the messenger I shall send,
+this will save him from going astray."
+
+While speaking she draws forth a small slip of paper from a pouch
+carried _a la chatelaine_; along with it a pencil.  She is about to
+write, when a thought restrains her.
+
+"Does your comrade understand Spanish?" she asks.
+
+"Only a word or two.  He speaks English, or, as we call it, American."
+
+"Can he read?"
+
+"Indifferently.  Enough, I suppose, for--"
+
+"Senor," she says, interrupting him, "I need not ask if you can write.
+Take this, and put it in your own language.  Say you are gone south, due
+south, to a distance of about six miles.  Tell your friend to stay here
+till some one comes to meet and conduct him to where you'll be found."
+
+Hamersley perceives the rationality of these instructions.  There is no
+reason why he should not do as desired, and go at once with her who
+gives them.  By staying some mischance might still happen, and he may
+never see his fair rescuer again.  Who can tell what may arise in the
+midst of that mysterious desert?  By going he will the sooner be able to
+send succour to his comrade.
+
+He hesitates no longer, but writes upon the piece of paper--in large,
+carefully-inscribed letters, so that the _ci-devant_ Ranger need have no
+difficulty in deciphering them:--
+
+"Saved by an Angel.--Strike due south.  Six miles from this you will
+find me.  There is a horse, and you can take up his tracks.  If you stay
+here for a time, one will come and guide you."
+
+The huntress takes the paper from his hand, and glances at the writing,
+as if out of curiosity to read the script of a language unknown to her.
+But something like a smile playing around her lips might lead one to
+believe she has divined the meaning of at least the initial sentence.
+
+She makes no remark, but stepping towards the yucca and reaching up,
+impales the piece of paper on one of its topmost spikes.
+
+"Now, caballero," she says, "you mount my mare.  See, she stands ready
+for you."
+
+Hamersley again protests, saying he can walk well enough.
+
+But his tottering steps contradict him, and he urges his objections in
+vain.
+
+The young girl appealingly persists, until at length the gallantry of
+the Kentuckian gives way, and he climbs reluctantly into the saddle.
+
+"Now, Lolita!" cries her mistress, "see that your step is sure, or you
+shan't have the pinons I promised you.  _Adelante!  Nos vamos, senor_!"
+
+So saying, she strikes off through the sage, the mustang stepping by her
+side, and the two great hounds, like a rear guard, bringing up behind.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
+
+FOES OR FRIENDS?
+
+Mounted on the mustang mare, Frank Hamersley pursues his way, wondering
+at his strange guide.  So lovely a being encountered in such an
+out-of-the-way corner of the world--in the midst of a treeless,
+waterless desert, over a hundred miles from the nearest civilised
+settlement!
+
+Who is she?  Where has she come from?  Whither is she conducting him?
+
+To the last question he will soon have an answer; for as they advance
+she now and then speaks words of encouragement, telling him they are
+soon to reach a place of rest.
+
+"Yonder!" she at length exclaims, pointing to two mound-shaped
+elevations that rise twin-like above the level of the plain.  "Between
+those runs our road.  Once there, we shall not have much farther to go;
+the rancho will be in sight."
+
+The young prairie merchant makes no reply.  He only thinks how strange
+it all is--the beautiful being by his side--her dash--her wonderful
+knowledge exhibited with such an air of _naivete_--her generous
+behaviour--the picturesqueness of her dress--her hunter equipment--the
+great dogs trotting at her heels--the dead game on the croup behind--the
+animal he bestrides--all are before his mind and mingling in his
+thoughts like the unreal phantasmagoria of a dream.
+
+And not any more like reality is the scene disclosed to his view when,
+after passing around the nearest of the twin mound-shaped hills, and
+entering a gate-like gorge that opens between them, he sees before him
+and below--hundreds of feet below--a valley of elliptical form like a
+vast basin scooped out of the plain.  But for its oval shape he might
+deem it the crater of some extinct volcano.  But then, where is the lava
+that should have been projected from it?  With the exception of the two
+hillocks on each hand, all the country around, far as the eye can reach,
+is level as the bosom of a placid lake.  And otherwise unlike a volcanic
+crater is the concavity itself.  No gloom down there, no black scoriae,
+no returning streams of lava, nor _debris_ of pumice-stone; but, on the
+contrary, a smiling vegetation--trees with foliage of different shades,
+among which can be distinguished the dark-green frondage of the live-oak
+and pecan, the more brilliant verdure of cottonwoods, and the
+flower-loaded branches of the wild China-tree.  In their midst a glassy
+disc that speaks of standing water, with here and there a fleck of
+white, which tells of a stream with foaming cascades and cataracts.
+Near the lakelet, in the centre, a tiny column of blue smoke ascends
+over the tree-tops.  This indicates the presence of a dwelling; and as
+they advance a little further into the gorge, the house itself can be
+descried.
+
+In contrast with the dreary plain over which he has been so long
+toiling, to Hamersley the valley appears a paradise--worthy home of the
+Peri who is conducting him down to it.  It resembles a landscape painted
+upon the concave sides of an immense oval-shaped dish, with the
+cloudless sky, like a vast cover of blue glass, arching over it.
+
+The scene seems scarcely real, and once more the young prairie merchant
+begins to doubt the evidence of his senses.  After all, is it only a
+vision of his brain, distempered by the long strain upon his intellect,
+and the agony he has been enduring?  Or is it but the _mirage_ of the
+desert, that has so oft already deceived him?
+
+His doubts are dissipated by the sweet voice sounding once more in his
+ears.
+
+"_Mira, caballero_! you see where you are going now?  It is not far; you
+will need to keep a firm seat in the saddle for the next hundred yards
+or so.  There is a steep descent and a narrow pathway.  Take good hold
+with your knees, and trust yourself to the mare.  She knows the way
+well, and will bear you in safety.  Won't you, Lolita?  You will, my
+pet!"
+
+At this the mustang gives a soft whimper, as if answering the
+interrogatory.
+
+"I shall myself go before," the girl continues.  "So let loose the rein,
+and leave Lolita to take her own way."
+
+After giving this injunction, she turns abruptly to the right, where a
+path almost perpendicular leads down a ledge, traversing the facade of
+the cliff.  Close followed by the mustang, she advances fearlessly along
+it.
+
+Certainly a most dangerous descent, even for one afoot; and if left to
+his own will, Hamersley might decline attempting it on horseback.  But
+he has no choice now, for before he can make either expostulation or
+protest, Lolita has struck along the path, and continues with
+hind-quarters high in air and neck extended in the opposite direction,
+as though standing upon her head!  To her rider there is no alternative
+but do as he has been directed--stick close to the saddle.  This he
+manages by throwing his feet forward and laying his back flat along the
+croup, till his shoulders come between the crossed shanks of the
+prong-horns.
+
+In this position he remains, without saying a word, or even daring to
+look below, till he at length finds himself moving forward with face
+upturned to the sky, thus discovering that the animal he bestrides is
+once more going along level ground.
+
+Again he hears the voice of Lolita's mistress, saying, "Now, senor, you
+can sit upright; the danger is past.  You have behaved well, _yegua--
+yeguita_!" she adds, patting the mare upon the neck; "you shall have the
+promised pinons--a whole _cuartilla_ of them."
+
+Once more stepping to the front, she strikes off among the trees, along
+a path which still inclines downward, though now in gentler slope.
+
+Hamersley's brain is in a whirl.  The strange scenes, things, thoughts,
+and fancies are weaving weird spells around him; and once more he begins
+to think that his senses have either forsaken or are forsaking him.
+
+This time it is really so, for the long-protracted suffering--the waste
+of blood and loss of strength--only spasmodically resuscitated by the
+excitement of the strange encounter--is now being succeeded by a fever
+of the brain, that is gradually depriving him of his reason.
+
+He has a consciousness of riding on for some distance farther--under
+trees, whose leafy boughs form an arcade over his head, shutting out the
+sun.  Soon after, all becomes suddenly luminous, as the mustang bears
+him out into a clearing, with what appears a log-cabin in the centre.
+He sees or fancies the forms of several men standing by its door; and as
+the mare comes to a stop in their midst his fair conductor is heard
+excitedly exclaiming,--
+
+"_Hermano_! take hold of him!  _Alerte!  Alerte_!"
+
+At this one of the men springs towards him; whether to be kind, or to
+kill, he cannot tell.  For before a hand is laid on him the strange
+tableau fades from his sight; and death, with all its dark
+obliviousness, seems to take possession of his soul.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
+
+"SAVED BY AN ANGEL!"
+
+The shadow of Walt Wilder is again projected over the Staked Plain, as
+before, to a gigantic length.  But this time westwardly, from a sun that
+is rising instead of setting.
+
+It is the morning after he parted with his disabled companion; and he is
+now making back towards the spot where he had left the latter, the sun's
+disc just appearing above the horizon, and shining straight upon his
+back.  Its rays illumine an object not seen before, which lends to
+Walt's shadow a shape weird and fantastic.  It is that of a giant, with
+something sticking out on each side of his head that resembles a pair of
+horns, or as if his neck was embraced by an ox-yoke, the tines tending
+diagonally outwards.
+
+On looking at Walt himself the singularity is at once understood.  The
+carcase of a deer lies transversely across his back, the legs of the
+animal being fastened together so as to form a sling, through which he
+has thrust his head, leaving the long slender shanks, like the ends of
+the letter X, projecting at each side and high above his shoulders.
+
+Despite the load thus borne by him, the step of the ex-Ranger is no
+longer that of a man either despairing or fatigued.  On the contrary, it
+is light and elastic; while his countenance shows bright and joyous as
+the beams of the ascending sun.  His very shadow seems to flit over the
+frosted foliage of the artemisias as lightly as the figure of a
+gossamer-robed belle gliding across the waxed floor of a ball-room.
+
+Walt Wilder no longer hungers or thirsts.  Though the carcase on his
+back is still unskinned, a huge collop cut out of one of its
+hind-quarters tells how he has satisfied the first craving; while the
+gurgle of water, heard inside the canteen slung under his arm, proclaims
+that the second has also been appeased.
+
+He is now hastening on to the relief of his comrade, happy in the
+thought of being able soon to relieve him also from his sufferings.
+
+Striding lightly among the sage-bushes, and looking ahead for the
+landmark that should guide him, he at length catches sight of it.  The
+palmilla, standing like a huge porcupine upon the plain, cannot be
+mistaken; and he descries it at more than a mile's distance, the shadow
+of his own head already flickering among its bayonet-like blades.
+
+Just then something else comes under his eyes, which at once changes the
+expression upon his countenance.  From gay it grows grave, serious,
+apprehensive.  A flock of buzzards, seemingly scared by his shadow, have
+suddenly flapped up from among the sage-plants, and are now soaring
+around, close to the spikes of the palmilla.  They have evidently been
+down _upon the earth_.  And what have they been doing there?
+
+It is this question, mentally put by Walt Wilder, that has caused the
+quick change in his countenance--the result of a painful conjecture.
+
+"Marciful heavens!" he exclaims, suddenly making halt, the gun almost
+dropping from his grasp.  "Kin it be possyble?  Frank Hamersley gone
+under!  Them buzzards!  They've been upon the groun' to a sartinty.
+Darnashin! what ked they a been doin' down thar?  Right by the bunch o'
+palmetto, jest whar I left him.  An' no sign o' himself to be seen?
+Marciful heavens! kin it be possyble they've been--?"
+
+Interrupting himself, he remains motionless, apparently paralysed by
+apprehension, mechanically scanning the palmilla, as though from it he
+expected an answer to his interrogatory.
+
+"It air possyble," he continues after a time, "too possyble--too
+likesome.  He war well-nigh done up, poor young fellur; an' no wonder.
+Whar is he now?  He must be down by the side o' the bush--down an' dead.
+Ef he war alive, he'd be lookin' out for me.  He's gone under; an' this
+deer-meat, this water, purcured to no purpiss.  I mout as well fling
+both away; they'll reach him too late."
+
+Once more resuming his forward stride, he advanced towards the dark mass
+above which the vultures are soaring.  His shadow, still by a long
+distance preceding him, has frightened the birds higher up into the air,
+but they show no signs of going altogether away.  On the contrary, they
+keep circling around, as if they had already commenced a repast, and,
+driven off, intend returning to it.
+
+On what have they been banqueting?  On the body of his comrade?  What
+else can be there?
+
+Thus questioning himself, the ex-Ranger advances, his heart still aching
+with apprehension.  Suddenly his eye alights on the piece of paper
+impaled upon the topmost spike of the palmilla.  The sight gives him
+relief, but only for an instant; his conjectures again leading him
+astray.
+
+"Poor young fellur!" is his half-spoken reflection; "he's wrote
+somethin' to tell how he died--mayhap somethin' for me to carry back to
+the dear 'uns he's left behind in ole Kaintuck.  Wall, that thing shall
+sartinly be done ef ever this chile gets to the States agin.  Darnashin!
+only to think how near I war to savin' him; a whole doe deer, an' water
+enough to a drownded him!  It'll be useless venison now, I shan't care
+no more to put tooth into it myself.  Frank Hamersley gone dead--the man
+o' all others I'd 'a died to keep alive.  I'd jest as soon lie down an'
+stop breathin' by the side o' him."
+
+While speaking he moves on towards the palmilla.  A few strides bring
+him so near the tree that he can see the ground surface about its base.
+There is something black among the stems of the sage-bushes.  It is not
+the dead body of a man, but a buzzard, which he knows to be that he had
+shot before starting off.  The sight of it causes him again to make
+stop.  It looks draggled and torn, as if partially dismembered.
+
+"Kin he hev been eatin' it?  Or war it themselves, the cussed kannybals?
+Poor Frank, I reck'n I'll find him on t'other side, his body mangled in
+the same way.  Darn it, 't air kewrous, too.  'Twar on this side he laid
+down to git shade from the sun.  I seed him squat whiles I war walkin'
+away.  The sun ain't hot enuf yit to a druv him to westward o' the bush,
+though thar for sartin he must be.  What's the use o' my stannin'
+shilly-shally hyar?  I may as well face the sight at oncest, ugly as I
+know it'll prove.  Hyar goes."
+
+Steeling himself for the terrible spectacle, which he believes to be
+certainly awaiting him, he once more advances towards the tree.
+
+A dozen strides bring him up, and less than half a dozen more carry him
+around it.
+
+No body, living or dead--no remains of man, mutilated or otherwise!
+
+For some time Wilder stands in speechless surprise, his glances going
+all around.  But no human figure is seen, either by the palmilla or
+among the sage-bushes beside it.  Can the wounded man have crawled away?
+But no; why should he?  Still, to make sure, the ex-Ranger shouts out,
+calling Hamersley by name.
+
+He gets no response.  Alone he hears the echo of his own voice, mingling
+with the hoarse croaking of the vultures, scared by his shouts.
+
+His hunter habits now counsel him to a different course of action.  His
+comrade cannot be dead, else the corpse would be there.  The vultures
+could not have eaten up both body and bones.  There is no skeleton, no
+remains.  His fellow fugitive has gone off or been taken.  Whither?
+While asking the question Wilder sets about the right way to answer it.
+As a skilled tracker he begins by examining the signs that should put
+him on the trace of his missing companion.  At a glance he perceives the
+prints of a horse's hoof, and sees they are those of one unshod.  This
+bodes ill, for the naked-hoofed horse betokens a savage rider--an
+Indian.  Still, it may not be; and he proceeds to a more careful
+scrutiny of the tracks.  In a short time he is able to tell that but one
+horse has been there, and presumably but one rider, which promises
+better.  And while shaping conjectures as to who it could have been his
+eye ascends to the piece of paper impaled upon the spike, which he has
+for a time forgotten.  This promises still better.  It may clear up
+everything.
+
+Hoping it will, he strides towards and takes hold of it.  Lifting it
+carefully from the leaf, he spreads it out.  He sees some writing in
+pencil, which he prepares to read.
+
+At first sight he supposed it might be a dying record.  Now he believes
+it may be something else.
+
+His hands tremble, and his huge frame is convulsed as he holds the paper
+to his eyes.
+
+With a thrill of joy he recognises the handwriting of Hamersley, which
+he knows.  He is not much of a scholar; still, he can read, and at a
+glance makes out the first four words, full of pleasant meaning:
+
+"_Saved by an Angel_!"
+
+He reads no farther, till after giving utterance to a "hurrah!" that
+might have been heard many miles over the Staked Plain.  Then, more
+tranquillised, he continues deciphering the chirography of his companion
+to the end; when a second shout terminates the effort.
+
+"Saved by a angel!" he says, muttering to himself.  "A angel on the
+Staked Plain!  Whar can the critter hev come from?  No matter whar.
+Thar's been one hyar, for sartin.  Darn me ef I don't smell the sweet o'
+her pettikotes now!  This piece o' paper--'t ain't Frank's.  I knows he
+hedn't a scrap about him.  No.  Thar's the scent o' a woman on it, sure;
+an' whar thar's a woman Frank Hamersley ain't likely to be let die o'
+sturvashun.  He air too good-lookin' for that.  Wall I reck'n it's all
+right an' thar ain't no more need for me to hurry.  T'war rayther a
+scant breakfast I've hed, an' hain't gin this chile's in'ards
+saterfacshun.  I'll jest chaw another griskin o' the deer-meat to
+strengthen me for this six-mile tramp southard."
+
+In less than five minutes after, the smoke from a sage-stalk fire was
+seen ascending from beside the palmilla, and in its blaze, quickly
+kindled, a huge piece of venison, cut from the fat flanks of the doe,
+weighing at least four pounds, spitted upon one of the stiff blades of
+the plant, was rapidly turning from blood red to burnt brown.
+
+As circumstances had ofttimes compelled the ex-Ranger to eat his
+deer-meat underdone, the habit had become his _gout_; and it was,
+therefore, not long before the griskin was removed from the spit.  Nor
+much longer till it ceased to be a griskin--having altogether
+disappeared from his fingers, followed by a gurgling sound, as half the
+contents of the canteen went washing it down his throat.
+
+"Now!" he said, springing to his feet, after he had completed his
+Homeric repast, "this chile feels strong enuf to face the devil hisself,
+an' tharfor he needn't be backward 'bout the encounterin' o' a angel.
+So hyar goes to find out Frank Hamersley, an' how _he's_ farin'.
+Anyhow, I'll take the deer along in case thar mout be a scarcity o'
+eetables, though I reck'n thar's no fear o' that.  Whar a angel makes
+dwelling-place thar oughter be a full crib, though it may be ambrosyer
+or mannar, or some o' them fixin's as a purairy man's stummick ain't
+used to.  Anyways, a bit o' doe-deer meat won't do no harum.  So, Walt
+Wilder, ole coon, let's you an' me set our faces southart, an' see
+what's to turn up at the tarminashun o' six miles' trampin'."
+
+Once more shouldering the carcase, he strides off towards the south,
+guiding himself by the sun, but more by the hoof-marks of the mustang.
+These, though scarce distinguishable, under the over-shadowing
+sage-plants, are descried with little difficulty by the experienced eye
+of the Ranger.
+
+On goes he, now and then muttering to himself conjectures as to what
+sort of a personage has appropriated and carried off his comrade.  But,
+with all his jocular soliloquising, he feels certain the _angel_ will
+turn out to be a _woman_.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.
+
+FALLEN AMONG FRIENDS.
+
+If, before losing consciousness, Hamersley had a thought that he had
+fallen into the hands of enemies, never in all his life could he have
+been more mistaken, for those now around him, by their words and
+gestures, prove the very reverse.  Six personages compose the group--
+four men and a girl; the sixth, she, the huntress, who has conducted him
+to the house.  The girl is a brown-skinned Indian, evidently a domestic;
+and so also two of the four men.  The other two are white, and of
+pronouncedly Spanish features.  One is an oldish man, greyheaded,
+thin-faced, and wearing spectacles.  In a great city he would be taken
+for a _savant_, though difficult to tell what he may be, seen in the
+Llano Estacado surrounded by a desert.  In the same place, the other and
+younger man is equally an enigma, for his bearing proclaims him both
+gentleman and soldier, while the coat on his back shows the undress
+uniform of an officer of more than medium rank.
+
+It is he who answers to the apostrophe, "Hermano!" springing forward at
+the word, and obeying the command of his sister--for such is she whom
+Hamersley has accompanied to the spot.
+
+Throwing out his arms, and receiving the wounded man as he falls
+insensible from the saddle, the obedient brother for a moment stands
+aghast, for in the face of him unconscious he recognises an old friend--
+one he might no more expect to see there than to behold him falling from
+the sky.
+
+He can have no explanation from the man held in his arms.  The latter
+has fainted--is dying--perhaps already dead.  He does not seek it, only
+turns to him who wears the spectacles, saying,--
+
+"Doctor, is he, indeed, dead?  See if it be so.  Let everything be done
+to save him."
+
+He thus addressed takes hold of Hamersley's pulse, and, after a moment
+or two, pronounces upon it.  It beats; it indicates extreme weakness,
+but not absolute danger of death.
+
+Then the wounded man is carried inside--tenderly borne, as if he, too,
+were a brother--laid upon a couch, and looked after with all the skill
+the grey-haired _medico_ can command, with all the assiduity of her who
+has brought him to the house, and him she calls "Hermano."
+
+As soon as the stranger has been disposed of, between these two there is
+a dialogue--the brother seeking explanations from the sister, though
+first imparting information to her.  He knows the man she has saved;
+telling her how and where their acquaintance was made.  Few words
+suffice, for already is the story known to her.  In return, she too
+gives relation of what has happened--how, after her chase upon the
+plain, coming back successful, she saw the zopilotes, and was by them
+attracted out of her way; narrating all the rest already told.
+
+And now nothing more can be known.  The man still lives--thank Heaven
+for that!--but lies on the couch unconscious of all around him.  Not
+quiet, for he is turning about, with quick-beating pulse, and brain in a
+condition of delirium.
+
+For a night and a part of a day they keep by his bedside--all three,
+sister, brother, and doctor, grouped there, or going and coming.  They
+know who the wounded man is, though ignorant of how he came by his
+wounds, or what strange chance left him stranded on the Staked Plain.
+
+They have no hope of knowing until he may regain consciousness and
+recover.  And of this the doctor has some doubt; when asked, shaking his
+head ominously, till the spectacles get loosened upon his nose.
+
+But, though the prognosis remain uncertain, the diagnosis is learnt in a
+manner unexpected.  Before noon of the next day the hounds are heard
+baying outside; and the watchers by the sick-bed, summoned forth, see
+one approaching--a personage whose appearance causes them surprise.  Any
+one seen there would do the same, since for months no stranger had come
+near them.  Strange, indeed, if one had, for they are more than a
+hundred miles from any civilised settlement, in the very heart and
+centre of a desert.
+
+What they see now is a man of colossal form and gigantic stature, with
+bearded face and formidable aspect, rendered somewhat grotesque by a
+deer's carcase carried over his shoulders, the shanks of the animal
+rising crossways over his crown.
+
+They are not dismayed by the uncouth apparition.  She who has brought
+Hamersley to the house guesses it to be the comrade of whom he spoke--
+describing him as "true and faithful."
+
+And, without reflecting further, she glides out, grasps the great hunter
+by the hand, and conducts him to the bedside of his unconscious
+companion.
+
+Looking at her as she leads him, Walt Wilder mutters to himself,--
+
+"Saved by a _angel_!  I knowed it would turn out a _woman_, and this is
+one for sartin."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.
+
+THE LONE RANCHE.
+
+A singular habitation was that into which Frank Hamersley, and after him
+Walt Wilder, had found their way.  Architecturally of the rudest
+description--a kind among Mexicans especially styled _jacal_, or more
+generally _rancho_, the latter designation Anglicised or Americanised
+into ranche.  The _rancho_, when of limited dimensions, is termed
+_ranchito_, and may be seen with walls of different materials, according
+to the district or country.  In the hot low lands (_tierras calientes_)
+it is usually built of bamboos, with a thatching of palm-leaf; higher
+up, on the table lands (_tierras templadas_) it is a structure of mud
+bricks unburnt (adobe's); while still higher, upon the slopes of the
+forest-clad sierras, it assumes the orthodox shape of a log cabin,
+though in many respects differing from that of the States.
+
+The one which gave shelter to the fugitives differed from all these,
+having walls of split slabs, set stockade fashion, and thatched with a
+sedge of _tule_, taken from a little lake that lay near.  It had three
+rooms and a kitchen, with some sheds at the back--one a stable
+appropriated to the mustang mare, another to some mules, and a third
+occupied by two men of the class of "peons"--the male domestics of the
+establishment.
+
+All, with the house itself, structures of the rudest kind, unlike as
+possible to the dwelling-place of a lady, to say nought of an _angel_.
+
+This thought occurs to Wilder as he enters under its roof.  But he has
+no time to dwell upon it.  His wounded comrade is inside, to whom he is
+conducted.  He finds the latter still alive--thank God for that!--but
+unconscious of all that is passing around.  To the kindly words spoken
+in apostrophe he makes no reply, or only in speeches incoherent.  His
+skin is hot, his lips parched, his pulse throbbing at ninety to the
+minute.  He is in the throes of a raging fever, which affects his brain
+as his blood.
+
+The stalwart hunter sits down by his side, and stays there, tenderly
+nursing him.  It glads him to observe there are others solicitous as
+himself--to find that he and Hamersley have fallen among friends.
+Though also surprising him, as does the sort of people he sees around.
+First, there is a lady, easily recognised as the _angel_; then a man of
+military aspect, who addresses her as "Hermanita," unquestionably a
+gentleman with a second and older man wearing spectacles, by both spoken
+of as "el medico."  Strange inhabitants for a hovel, as that this should
+be in such an odd situation--hundreds of miles beyond the borders of
+civilisation, as Walt well knows.
+
+No wonder at his wondering, above all when he discovers that his comrade
+is already known to them--to the younger of the two men, who is their
+host.  This, however, is soon explained.  Walt was already aware that
+the young prairie trader had made a former trip to New Mexico, when and
+where, as he is now told, the acquaintance commenced, along with some
+other particulars, to satisfy him for the time.
+
+In return for this confidence he gives a detailed account of the caravan
+and its mischances--of the great final misfortune, which explains to
+them why its owner and himself had been forced to take to the Staked
+Plain, and were there wandering about, helpless fugitives.
+
+To his narrative all three eagerly listen.  But when he enlarges on the
+bravery of his young comrade, lying unconscious beside them, one bends
+upon the latter eyes that express an interest amounting to admiration.
+It is the "angel."
+
+In the days that succeed she becomes Walt's fellow-watcher by the
+bedside of the sufferer; and often again does he observe similar glances
+given to their common patient.  Rough backwoodsman though he be, he can
+tell them to be looks of love.
+
+He thinks less about them because he has himself found something of like
+kind stealing over his thoughts.  All his cares are not given to his
+invalided comrade; for in the hut is a fourth individual, whose habitual
+place is the _cocina_, coming and going, as occasion calls.
+
+A little brown-skinned beauty, half Spanish, half Pueblo Indian, whose
+black eyes have burnt a hole through his buckskin hunting-shirt, and set
+fire to his heart.  Though but little more than half his height, in less
+than a week after making her acquaintance she has become his master, as
+much as if their stature were reversed.
+
+Walt does not want her for his mistress.  No; the hunter is too noble,
+too honourable, for that His glance following her as she flits about the
+room, taking in her dainty shape, and the expression of her pretty face,
+always wreathed in smiles, he has but one single-hearted desire, to
+which he gives muttered expression, saying,--
+
+"Thet's jest the kind o' gurl a fellow ked freeze to.  I ne'er seed a
+apple dumplin' as looked sweeter or more temptin'; an' if she's
+agreeable, we two air born to be bone o' one bone, and flesh o' one
+flesh!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.
+
+A SWEET AWAKENING.
+
+For many days the young Kentuckian remains unconscious of all that is
+passing around.  Fortunately for him, he has fallen into the right
+hands; for the old gentleman in spectacles is in reality a medical man--
+a skilled surgeon as well as a physician, and devotes all his time and
+skill to restoring his patient to health.
+
+Soon the wound shows signs of healing, and, along with it, the fever
+begins gradually to abate.  The brain at length relieved, reason resumes
+its sway.
+
+Hamersley becomes conscious that he still lives, on hearing voices.
+They are of men.  Two are engaged in a dialogue, which appears to be
+carried on with some difficulty, as one is speaking English, which the
+other but slightly understands.  Neither is the English of the first
+speaker of a very correct kind, nor is his voice at all euphonious.  For
+all that, it sounds in Hamersley's ears sweet as the most seraphic
+music, since in its tones he recognises the voice of Walt Wilder.
+
+A joyous throb thrills through his heart on discovering that his comrade
+has rejoined him.  After their parting upon the plain he had his fears
+they might never come together again.
+
+Walt is not within sight, for the conversation is carried on outside the
+room.  The invalid sees that he is in a room, a small one, of which the
+walls are wood, roughly-hewn slabs, with furniture fashioned in a style
+corresponding.  He is lying upon a _catre_, or camp bedstead, rendered
+soft by a mattress of bearskins, while a _serape_ of bright-coloured
+pattern is spread over him, serving both for blanket and counterpane.
+In the apartment is a table of the rudest construction, with two or
+three chairs, evidently from the hand of the same unskilful workman,
+their seats being simply hides with the hair on.  On the table is a cup
+with a spoon in it, and two or three small bottles, that have the look
+of containing medicines.
+
+All these objects come under his eyes at the first dim glance; but as
+his vision grows clearer, and he feels strength enough to raise his head
+from the pillow, other articles are disclosed to view, in strange
+contrast with the chattels first observed.  Against the wall hang
+several articles of female apparel--all of a costly kind.  They are of
+silk and silk-velvet, richly brocaded; while on a second table, slab
+like the first, he can distinguish bijouterie, with other trifles
+usually belonging to a lady's toilet.
+
+These lie in front of a small mirror set in a frame which appears to be
+silver; while above is suspended a guitar, of the kind known as
+_bandolon_.
+
+The sick man sees all these things with a half-bewildered gaze, for his
+senses are still far from clear.  The costly articles of apparel and
+adornment would be appropriate in a lady's boudoir or bed chamber.  But
+they appear strange, even grotesque, in juxtaposition with the
+roughly-hewn timbers of what is evidently a humble cottage--a log cabin!
+
+Of course he connects them with her, that singular being who has
+succoured, and perhaps saved his life.  He can have no other conjecture.
+He remembers seeing a house as they approached its outside.  It must be
+that he is now in; though, from the last conscious thought, as he felt
+himself swooning in the saddle, all has been as blank as if he had been
+lying lifeless in a tomb.  Even yet it might appear as a dream but for
+the voice of Walt Wilder, who, outside, seems labouring hard to make
+himself intelligible to some personage with whom he is conversing.
+
+Hamersley is about to utter a cry that will summon his comrade to his
+side, when he perceives that the voices are becoming fainter, as if the
+two speakers had gone outside the house and were walking away from it.
+Feeling too weak even for the slightest exertion, he remains silent,
+taking it for granted they will soon return.
+
+It is broad daylight, the sun glancing in through an aperture in the
+wall that serves for a window.  It has neither frame nor glass, and
+along with the bright beams there drifts in a cool breeze laden with the
+delicious fragrance of flowers, among which he can distinguish the
+aromatic perfume of the wild China tree.  There are voices of birds
+mingling their music with the sough of falling water--sounds very
+different from those of the desert through which he has of late been
+straying.
+
+He lies thinking of the beautiful being who brought him thither, shaping
+conjectures in regard to the strangeness of the situation.  He has no
+idea how long he may have been unconscious; nor has the whole time been
+like death--unless death have its dreams.  For he has had dreams, all
+with a fair form and lovely face flitting and figuring in them.  It is
+the wild huntress.
+
+He has a fancy that the face seemed familiar to him; or, if not
+familiar, one he has looked upon before.  He endeavours to recall all
+those he had met in Mexico during his sojourn there; for if encountered
+anywhere, it must have been there.  His female acquaintances had been
+but few in that foreign land.  He can remember every one of them.  She
+is not of their number.  If he has ever seen her before their encounter
+on the Staked Plain, it must have been while passing along the street of
+some Mexican city.
+
+And this could scarcely be, in his silent reflection; for such a woman
+once seen--even but for a moment--could never be forgotten.
+
+He lies pondering on all that has passed--on all he can now recall.
+Walt had got back, then, to the place where they parted.  He must have
+found food and water, though it matters now no more.  Enough that he has
+got back, and both are in an asylum of safety, under friendly
+protection.  This is evident from the surroundings.
+
+Still feeble as a child, the effort of thought very soon fatigues him;
+and this, with the narcotic influence of the flower perfume, the songs
+of the birds, and the soothing monotone of the waters, produces a
+drowsiness that terminates in a profound slumber.  This time he sleeps
+without dreaming.
+
+How long he cannot tell; but once more he is awakened by voices.  As
+before, two persons are engaged in conversation.  But far different from
+those already heard.  The bird-music still swelling in through the
+window is less sweet than the tones that now salute his ear.
+
+As before, the speakers are invisible, outside the room.  But he can
+perceive that they are close to the door, and the first words heard
+admonish him of their design to enter.
+
+"Now, Conchita!  Go get the wine, and bring it along with you.  The
+doctor left directions for it to be given him at this hour."
+
+"I have it here, senorita."
+
+"_Vaya_! you have forgotten the glass.  You would not have him drink out
+of the bottle?"
+
+"_Ay Dios_! and so I have," responds Conchita, apparently gliding off to
+possess herself of the required article, with which she soon returns.
+
+"Ish!" cautions the other voice; "if he be still asleep, we must not
+wake him.  Don Prospero said that.  Step lightly, _muchacha_!"
+
+Hamersley is awake, with eyes wide open, and consciousness quite
+restored.  But at this moment something--an instinct of dissembling--
+causes him to counterfeit sleep; and he lies still, with shut eyelids.
+He can hear the door turning upon its hinges of raw hide, then the soft
+rustle of robes, while he is sensible of that inexpressible something
+that denotes the gentle presence of woman.
+
+"Yes, he is asleep," says the first speaker, "and for the world we may
+not disturb him.  The doctor was particular about that, and we must do
+exactly as he said.  You know, Conchita, this gentleman has been in
+great danger.  Thanks to the good Virgin, he'll get over it.  Don
+Prospero assures us he will."
+
+"What a pity if he should not!  Oh, senorita, isn't he--"
+
+"Isn't he what?"
+
+"Handsome--beautiful!  He looks like a picture I've seen in the church;
+an angel--only that the angel had wings, and no mustachios."
+
+"Pif, girl; don't speak in that silly way, or I shall be angry with you.
+_Vayate_! you may take away the wine.  We can come again when he
+awakes.  _Guardate_!  Tread lightly."
+
+Again there is the rustling of a dress; but this time as if only one of
+the two were moving off.  The other seems still to linger by the side of
+the couch.
+
+The invalid queries which of the two it is.  There is an electricity
+that tells him; and, for an instant, he thinks of opening his eyes, and
+proclaiming consciousness of what has been passing.
+
+A thought restrains him--delicacy.  The lady will know that he has been
+awake all the while, and overheard the conversation.  It has been in
+Spanish, but she is aware that he understands this, for he has no doubt
+that the "senorita" is she who has saved him.
+
+He remains without moving, without unclosing his eyelids.  But his ears
+are open, and he hears a speech pleasanter than any yet spoken.
+
+It is in the shape of a soliloquy--a few words softly murmured.  They
+are, "_Ay de mil_ 'Tis true what Conchita says, and as Valerian told me.
+_He is, indeed, handsome--beautiful_!"
+
+More than ever Hamersley endeavours to counterfeit sleep, but he can
+resist no longer.  Involuntarily his eyes fly open, and, with head
+upraised, he turns towards the speaker.
+
+He sees what he has been expecting, what he beheld in fancy throughout
+his long, delirious dream--the fair form and beautiful face that so much
+interested him, even in that hour when life seemed to be forsaking him.
+It is the angel of the desert, no longer in huntress garb, but dressed
+as a lady.
+
+There is a red tinge upon her cheek, that appears to have flushed up
+suddenly, as if suspecting her soliloquy has been heard.  The words have
+but parted from her lips, and the thought is yet thrilling in her heart.
+
+Can he have heard it?  He shows no sign.
+
+She approaches the couch with a look of solicitude, mingled with
+interrogation.  A hand is held out to her, and a word or two spoken to
+say she is recognised.  Her eyes sparkle with joy, as she perceives in
+those of the invalid that reason is once more seated on its throne.
+
+"I am so happy," she murmurs, "we are all so happy, to know you are out
+of danger.  Don Prospero says so.  You will now get well in a short
+time.  But I forget; we were to give you something as soon as you should
+awake.  It is only some wine.  Conchita, come hither!"
+
+A young girl is seen stepping into the chamber.  A glance would tell her
+to be the maid, if the overheard conversation had not already declared
+it.  A little brown-skinned damsel, scarce five feet in height, with
+raven hair hanging in double plait down her back, and black eyes that
+sparkle like those of a basilisk.
+
+Provident Conchila has brought the bottle and glass with her, and a
+portion of the famed grape juice of El Paso is administered to the
+invalid.
+
+"How good and kind you've all been!" he says, as his head once more
+settles down upon the pillow.  "And you especially, senorita.  If I
+mistake not, I'm indebted to you for the saving of my life."
+
+"Do not speak of that," she rejoins; "I've shown you no kindness in
+particular.  You would not have one leave a fellow creature to perish?"
+
+"Ah! but for you I should now have been in another world."
+
+"No, indeed.  There you are mistaken.  If I had never come near you,
+you'd have been saved all the same.  I have good news for you.  Your
+comrade is safe, and here.  He returned to your trysting-place, with
+both food and drink; so, as you see, I have no merit in having rescued
+you.  But I must not talk longer.  Don Prospero has given instructions
+for you to be kept quiet.  I shall bring the doctor at once.  Now that
+you are awake it is necessary he should see you."
+
+Without waiting for a reply, she glides out of the room, Conchita having
+gone before.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.
+
+DON VALERIAN.
+
+Hamersley lies pondering on what he has seen and heard, more especially
+on what he has overheard--that sweet soliloquy.  Few men are insensible
+to flattery.  And flattery from fair lips!  He must be indeed near death
+whose heart-pulsations it does not affect.
+
+But Don Prospero!  Who is he?  Is he the owner of the voice heard in
+dialogue with Walt Wilder?  May he be the owner of all?  This thought
+troubles the Kentuckian.
+
+Approaching footsteps put a stop to his conjectures.  There are voices
+outside, one of them the same late sounding so sweetly in his ears.  The
+other is a man's, but not his who was conversing with Wilder.  Nor is it
+that of the ex-Ranger himself.  It is Don Prospero, who soon after
+enters the room, the lady leading the way.
+
+A man of nigh sixty years of age, spare form and face, hair grizzled,
+cheeks wrinkled; withal hale and hearty, as can be told by the pleasant
+sparkle of his eye.  Dressed in a semi-military suit, of a subdued tint,
+and facings that tell of the medical staff.
+
+At a glance there is no danger in Don Prospero.  The invalid feels
+easier, and breathes freely.
+
+"Glad to see you looking so well," says Don Prospero, taking hold of his
+patient's wrist and trying the pulse.  "Ah! much more regular; it will
+be all right now.  Keep quiet, and we shall soon get you on your feet
+again.  Come, senor!  A little more of this grape-juice will do you no
+harm.  Nothing like our New Mexican wine for bringing back a sick man to
+his appetite.  After that, we shall give you some wild-turkey broth and
+a bone to pick.  In a day or two you'll be able to eat anything."
+
+Other personages are now approaching the chamber.  The lady glides out,
+calling,--
+
+"Valerian!"
+
+"Who is Valerian?" feebly interrogates the invalid.  Once more the name
+of a man is making him unhappy.
+
+"Don Valerian!" responds the doctor, in a tone that tells of respect for
+the individual so designated; "you shall see, senor.  You are about to
+make his acquaintance.  No; I am wrong about that.  I forgot.  You
+cannot now."
+
+"Cannot!  Why?"
+
+"Because you have made it already.  _Mira_!  He is there!"
+
+This as a tall, elegant man, under thirty years of age, steps inside the
+chamber, while a still taller form appears in the doorway, almost
+filling up the space between the posts.
+
+The latter is Walt Wilder, but the former--who is he?  Don Valerian, of
+course!
+
+"Colonel Miranda!" exclaims Hamersley, starting up on his couch.  He has
+already dismissed all suspicious fears of Don Prospero; and now he no
+longer dreads Valerian.
+
+"Colonel Miranda, is it you?"
+
+"It is, _mio amigo_, myself, as you see.  And I need not tell you how
+glad I am to meet you again.  So unexpected in this queer quarter, where
+I little hoped to have the pleasure of entertaining an old friend.  Our
+worthy doctor here informs us you will soon get strong again, and become
+more of a tax on my hospitality than you have yet been.  No doubt, after
+your illness, you'll have the appetite of an ostrich.  Well, in one way,
+that will be fortunate, since we are living, as you may see, in a
+somewhat Homeric fashion.  _Carrambo_! you will be deeming my manners
+quite as rude as the roughest of Homer's heroes.  I am forgetting to
+introduce you to one of whom you've heard me speak.  Though it don't so
+much signify, since the lady has made your acquaintance already.  Permit
+me to present my dear Adela."
+
+It is the beautiful huntress who steps forward to be introduced, now
+looking more beautiful than ever.
+
+To Hamersley all is explained by her presence.  He remembers the
+portrait upon the wall, which accounts for his fancy of having seen her
+face before.
+
+He sees it now; his wonder giving way to an intense, ardent admiration.
+
+Soon, the young lady retiring, his curiosity comes back, and he asks his
+host for an explanation.  How came Colonel Miranda there, and why?  By
+what sinister combination of circumstances has the military commandant
+of Albuquerque made his home in the midst of a howling wilderness, for
+such is the Llano Estacado?
+
+Despite the smiling oasis immediately surrounding it, it cannot have
+been choice.  No.  Chance, or rather mischance, must have led to this
+change in the affairs of his New Mexican acquaintance.  More than an
+acquaintance--a friend who stood by him in the hour of danger, first
+courageously protecting, then nobly volunteering to act as his second in
+a duel; afterwards taking him on to his home and showing him
+hospitality, kind as was ever extended to a stranger in a strange land.
+
+No wonder Frank Hamersley holds him dear.  Dearer now, after seeing his
+sister _in propria persona_--she whose portrait had so much impressed
+his fancy--the impression now deepened by the thought that to her he has
+been indebted for his life.
+
+Naturally enough, the young Kentuckian is desirous of knowing all, and
+is anxious about the fortunes of his Mexican friend, that for the time
+seem adverse.
+
+"No," is Colonel Miranda's response to his appeal.  "Not now, Senor Don
+Francisco.  Our good doctor here places an embargo on any further
+conversation for the present.  The tale I have to tell might too much
+excite you.  Therefore let it rest untold till you are stronger and more
+able to hear it rehearsed.  Now, _amigo_, we must leave you alone, or
+rather, I should say, in the best of good company, for such has your
+worthy comrade, the Senor Wilder, proved himself to be.  No doubt you'll
+be anxious to have a word with one who, while your life was in danger,
+would have sacrificed his own to save it.  Don Prospero permits him to
+remain with you and give such explanations as you may need.  The rest of
+us are to retire.  _Hasta luega_."  So saying, Miranda steps out of the
+room.  "Keep perfectly quiet," adds the ex-army surgeon, preparing to
+follow.  "Don't excite yourself by any act or thought that may cause a
+return of the fever.  For in that lies your greatest danger.  Feel
+confident, _caballero_, that you're in the company of friends.  Don
+Gaulterio here will be able to convince you of that.  Ah! senor, you've
+a nurse who feels a great interest in seeing you restored to health."
+
+Pronouncing these last words in undertone and with an accent of
+innuendo, accompanied by a smile which the invalid pleasantly
+interprets, Don Prospero also retires, leaving his patient alone with
+his old caravan guide.
+
+Drawing one of the chairs up to the side of the bed, the ex-Ranger sits
+down upon it, saying,--
+
+"Wal, Frank, ain't it wonderful?  That we shed both be hyar, neested
+snug an' comfortable as two doons in the heart of a hollow tree, arter
+all the dangersome scrapes we've been passin' through.  Gheehorum!  To
+think o' thar bein' sech a sweet furtile place lyin' plum centre in the
+innermost recesses o' the Staked Plain, whar we purairey men allers
+believed thar wun't nothin' 'ceptin' dry desert an' stinkin' sage-bush.
+Instead, hyar's a sort o' puradise aroun' us, sech as I used read o'
+when I war a youngster in the big Book.  Thar's the difference, that in
+the Gardin o' Eeden thar's but one woman spoken of; hyar thar's two, one
+o' which you yurself hev called a angel, an' ye hain't sayed anythin'
+beyont the downright truth.  She air a angel, if iver thar was sech on
+airth.  Now, not detractin' anythin' from her merits, thar's another
+near hand--somewhat of a smaller sort, though jest as much, an' a little
+bit more, to my likin'.  Ye won't mind my declarin' things that way.  As
+they say in Mexican Spanish, _cadder uner a soo gooster_ (cada una a su
+gusto), every one to his own way o' thinkin', so my belief air that in
+this.  Gardin o' Eeden thar air two Eves, one o' which, not countin' to
+be the mother o' all men, will yit, supposin' this chile to hev his way,
+be the mother o' a large family o' young Wilders."
+
+While Hamersley is still smiling at the grotesque prognostication, the
+ex-Ranger, seizing hold of his hand, continues,--
+
+"I'm so glad you're a goin' to rekiver.  Leavin' out the angels we love,
+ther'll be some chance to git square wi' the devils we've sech reezun to
+hate.  We may yit make them pay dear for the bloody deed they've done in
+the murderin' o' our innercent companyuns."
+
+"Amen to that," mutters Hamersley, returning the squeeze of his
+comrade's hand with like determined pressure.  "Sure as I live, it shall
+be so."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTY.
+
+THE RAIDERS RETURNING.
+
+An Indian bivouac.  It is upon a creek called "Pecan," a confluent of
+the Little Witchita river, which heads about a hundred miles from the
+eastern edge of the Llano Estacado.
+
+There are no tents in the encampment; only here and there a blanket or
+buffalo robe extended horizontally upon upright poles--branches cut from
+the surrounding trees.  The umbrageous canopy of the pecans protects the
+encamped warriors from the fervid rays of a noonday sun, striking
+vertically down.
+
+That they are on the maraud is evidenced by the absence of tents.  A
+peaceful party, in its ordinary nomadic passage across the prairies,
+would have lodges along with it--grand conical structures of painted
+buffalo skins--with squaws to set them up, and dogs or ponies to
+transport them when struck for another move.
+
+In this encampment on the Pecan are neither squaws, dogs, nor ponies;
+only men, naked to the breech clout, their bodies brightly painted from
+hip to head, chequered like a hatchment, or the jacket of a stage
+harlequin, with its fantastic devices, some ludicrous, others grotesque;
+still others of aspect terrible--showing a death's-head and cross-bones.
+
+A prairie man on seeing them would at once say, "Indians on the war
+trail!"
+
+It does not need prairie experience to tell they are returning upon it.
+If there are no ponies or dogs beside them, there are other animals in
+abundance--horses, mules, and horned cattle.  Horses and mules of
+American breed, and cattle whose ancestral stock has come from Tennessee
+or Kentucky along with the early colonists of Texas.
+
+And though there are no squaws or papooses in the encampment, there are
+women and children that are white.  A group comprising both can be seen
+near its centre.  It does not need the dishevelled hair and torn dresses
+to show they are captives; nor yet the half-dozen savages, spear-armed,
+keeping guard over them.  Their drooping heads, woeful and wan
+countenances, are too sure signs of their melancholy situation.
+
+What are these captives, and who their captors?  Two questions easily
+answered.  In a general way, the picture explains itself.  The captives
+are the wives and children, with sisters and grown-up daughters among
+them, of Texan colonists.  They are from a settlement too near the
+frontier to secure itself against Indian attack.  The captors are a
+party of Comanches, with whom the reader has already made acquaintance;
+for they are no other than the sub-tribe of Tenawas, of whom the Horned
+Lizard is leader.
+
+The time is two weeks subsequent to the attack on Hamersley's train;
+and, judging by the spectacle now presented, we may conclude that the
+Tenawa chief has not spent the interval in idleness.  Nearly three
+hundred miles lie between the place where the caravan was destroyed and
+the site of the plundered settlement, whose spoils are now seen in the
+possession of the savages.
+
+Such quick work requires explanation.  It is at variance with the
+customs and inclinations of the prairie freebooter, who, having acquired
+a booty, rarely strikes for another till the proceeds of the first be
+squandered.  He resembles the anaconda, which, having gorged itself,
+lies torpid till the craving of a fresh appetite stirs it to renewed
+activity.
+
+Thus would it have been with the Tenawa chief and his band, but for a
+circumstance of a somewhat unusual kind.  As is known, the attack on the
+prairie traders was not so much an affair of the Horned Lizard as his
+confederate, the military commandant of Albuquerque.  The summons had
+come to him unexpected, and after he had planned his descent on the
+Texas settlement.  Sanguinary as the first affair was, it had been
+short, leaving him time to carry out his original design, almost equally
+tragical in its execution.  Here and there, a spear standing up, with a
+tuft of light-coloured hair, blood-clotted upon its blade, is proof of
+this.  Quite as successful, too.  The large drove of horses and horned
+cattle, to say nothing of that crowd of despairing captives, proves the
+proceeds of the later maraud worth as much, or perhaps more, than what
+had been taken from the traders' waggons.
+
+Horned Lizard is jubilant; so, also, every warrior of his band.  In loss
+their late foray has cost them comparatively little--only one or two of
+their number, killed by the settlers while defending themselves.  It
+makes up for the severe chastisement sustained in their onslaught upon
+the caravan.  And, since the number of their tribe is reduced, there are
+now the fewer to share with, so that the calicoes of Lowell, the gaudy
+prints of Manchester, with stripes, shroudings, and scarlet cloth to
+bedeck their bodies, hand mirrors in which to admire themselves, horses
+to ride upon, mules to carry their tents, and cattle to eat--with white
+women to be their concubines, and white children their attendants--all
+these fine things in full possession have put the savages in high
+spirits--almost maddened them with delight.
+
+A new era has dawned upon the tribe of which Horned Lizard is head.
+Hitherto it has been a somewhat starving community, its range lying amid
+sterile tracts, on the upper tributaries of the Red River and Canadian.
+Now, before it is a plentiful future--a time of feasting and revelry,
+such as rarely occurs to a robber band, whether amidst the forest-clad
+mountains of Italy, or on the treeless steppes of America.
+
+The Tenawa chief is both joyous and triumphant.  So, too, his second in
+command, whose skin, with the paint cleansed from it, would show nearly
+white.  For he is a Mexican by birth; when a boy made prisoner by the
+Comanches, and long since matriculated into the mysteries of the
+redman's life--its cunning, as its cruelties.
+
+Now a man, he is one of the chiefs of the tribe, in authority only less
+than the Horned Lizard himself, but equal to the latter in all the cruel
+instincts that distinguish the savage.  "El Barbato" he is called, from
+having a beard, though this he keeps clean shaven, the better to
+assimilate himself to his beardless companions; while, with painted face
+and hair black as their own, he looks as Indian as any of them.  But he
+has not forgotten his native tongue, and this makes him useful to those
+who have adopted him, especially when raiding in the Republic of Mexico.
+It was through him the Tenawa chief was first brought to communicate
+with the military robber, Uraga.
+
+The Indian bivouac is down in the creek bottom in a little valley, on
+both sides flanked by precipitous cliffs.  Above and below these
+approach each other, so near as to leave only a narrow path along the
+edge of the stream.
+
+The savages are resting after a long, rapid march, encumbered with their
+spoils and captives.  Some have lain down to sleep, their nude bodies
+stretched along the sward, resembling bronze statues tumbled from their
+pedestals.  Others squat around fires, roasting collops from cattle they
+have killed, or eating them half raw.
+
+A few stand or saunter by the side of the captives, upon these casting
+covetous glances, as if they only waited for the opportunity to
+appropriate them.  The women are all young; some of them scarce grown
+girls, and some very beautiful.
+
+A heart-harrowing sight it would be for their fathers, brothers,
+husbands and sweethearts, could they but witness it.  These may not be
+far off.
+
+Some suspicion of this has carried the Horned Lizard and El Barbato up
+to the crest of the cliff.  They have been summoned thither by a sign,
+which the traveller on the prairies of Texas or the table plains of
+Mexico never sees without stopping to scrutinise and shape conjecture
+about its cause.  Before entering the canon through which runs Pecan
+Creek, the Tenawa chief had observed a flock of turkey-buzzards circling
+about in the air.  Not the one accompanying him and his marauders on
+their march, as is the wont of these predatory birds.  But another quite
+separate gang, seen at a distance behind, apparently above the path
+along which he and his freebooters had lately passed.
+
+As the Comanche well knows, a sign too significant to be treated lightly
+or with negligence.  And so, too, his second in command.  Therefore have
+they climbed the cliff to obtain a better view of the birds--those
+flying afar--and, if possible, draw a correct conclusion as to the cause
+of their being there.
+
+On reaching the summit they again see them, though so far off as to be
+barely visible--black specks against the blue canopy of the sky.  Still
+near enough to show a large number circling about over some object that
+appears stationary.
+
+This last observation seems satisfactory to the Tenawa chief, who,
+turning to his fellow-freebooter, shouts out,--
+
+"Nothing to fear.  Don't you remember, Barbato, one of our horses gave
+out there, and was left?  It's over him the zopilotes are swooping.
+He's not dead yet; that's why they don't go down."
+
+"It may be," rejoins the renegade.  "Still I don't like the look of it.
+Over a dead horse they'd hardly soar so high.  True, they keep in one
+place.  If it were Texans pursuing us they'd be moving onward--coming
+nearer and nearer.  They're not.  It must be, as you say, the horse.  I
+don't think the people of the settlement we struck would be strong
+enough to come after us--at least not so soon.  They may in time, after
+they've got up a gathering of their Rangers.  That isn't likely to be
+till we've got safe beyond their reach.  They won't gain much by a march
+to the Witchita mountains.  _Por cierte_! the zopilotes out yonder are
+over something; but, as they're not moving on, most likely it's the
+horse."
+
+Again the Horned Lizard gives a grunt, expressing satisfaction; after
+which the two scramble back down the cliff, to seek that repose which
+fighting and forced marching make necessary to man, be he savage or
+civilised.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.
+
+PURSUERS ON THE PATH.
+
+Despite common belief, the instinct of the Indian is not always sure,
+nor his intellect unerring.  An instance of the contrary is afforded by
+the behaviour of the Tenawa chief and his subordinate Barbato.
+
+About the buzzards both have been mistaken.  The second flock seen by
+them is not hovering over a horse, but above an encampment of horsemen.
+Not correctly an encampment, but a halt _en bivouac_--where men have
+thrown themselves from their saddles, to snatch a hurried repast, and
+take quick consultation about continuing on.
+
+They are all men, not a woman or child among them, bearded men with
+white skins, and wearing the garb of civilisation.  This not of the most
+fashionable kind or cut, nor are they all in the exact drew of civilised
+life.  For many of them wear buckskin hunting shirts, fringed leggings,
+and moccasins; more a costume peculiar to the savage.  Besides these
+there are some in blanket-coats of red, green, and blue; all
+sweat-stained and dust-tarnished, till the colours nearly correspond.
+Others in Kentucky jeans, or copper-coloured homespun.  Still others in
+sky-blue _cottonade_, product of the hand-mills of Attakapas.  Boots,
+shoes, and brogans fabricated out of all kinds of leather; even that
+from the corrugated skin of the illigator.  Hats of every shape,
+fashion, size, and material--straw, chip, Panama, wool, felt, silk, and
+beaver.
+
+In one respect they are all nearly alike--in their armour and
+accoutrements.  All are belted, pouched, and powder-horned.  Each
+carries a bowie-knife and a revolving pistol--some two--and none are
+without a rifle.  Besides this uniformity there are other points of
+resemblance--extending to a certain number.  It is noticeable in their
+guns, which are jagers of the US army-brand.  Equally apparent is the
+caparison of their horses; these carrying cavalry saddles, with peaks
+and cantles brass mounted.  Among the men to whom these appertain there
+is a sort of half-military discipline, indicated by some slight
+deference shown to two or three, who appear to act with the authority of
+officers.  It is, in fact, a troop--or, as by themselves styled, a
+"company"--of Texan Rangers.
+
+About one-half the band belongs to this organisation.  The others are
+the people of the plundered settlement--the fathers, brothers, and
+husbands, whom the Horned Lizard and his red robbers have bereft of
+daughters, sisters, and wives.
+
+They are in pursuit of the despoilers; a chase commenced as soon as they
+could collect sufficient force to give it a chance of success.  Luckily,
+a troop of Rangers, scouting in the neighbourhood, came opportunely
+along, just in time to join them.  Soldiers and settlers united, they
+are now on the trail of the Tenawas, and have only halted to breathe and
+water their horses, eat some food themselves, and then on.
+
+Not strange their hot haste--men whose homes have been made desolate,
+their kindred carried into captivity.  Each has his own painful
+reflections.  In that hour, at that very moment, his beloved wife, his
+delicate daughter, his fair sister, or sweetheart, may be struggling in
+the embrace of a brawny savage.  No wonder that to them every hour seems
+a day, every minute an hour.
+
+Though with a different motive, not much less impatient are their
+associates in the pursuit--the Rangers.  It chances to be a company
+especially rabid for defence against the incursions of the Tenawa tribe;
+and more than once baffled by these cunning red-skins, they are anxious
+to make up for past disappointment.  Twice before have they followed the
+retreating trail of these same savages, on both occasions returning
+foiled and empty-handed.  And, now that they are again on it, with surer
+signs to guide them, the young men of the corps are mad to come up with
+the red marauders, while the elder ones are almost equally excited.
+Both resemble hounds in a hunt where the scent is hot--the young dogs
+dashing forward without check, the old ones alike eager, but moving with
+more circumspection.
+
+Between them and the settlers there is the same earnestness of purpose,
+though stimulated by resentment altogether different.  The latter only
+think of rescuing their dear ones, while the former are stirred by
+soldier pride and the instinctive antagonism which a Texan Ranger feels
+for a Tenawa.  Many of them have old scores to settle with the Horned
+Lizard, and more than one longs to send a bullet through his heart.
+
+But, despite the general reckless impatience to proceed, there are some
+who counsel caution.  Chief among those is a man named Cully, a thin
+wiry sexagenarian, who looks as if he had been at least half a century
+upon the prairies.  All over buckskin, fitting tight to his body,
+without tag or tail, he is not one of the enrolled Rangers, though
+engaged to act as their guide.  In this capacity he exercises an
+influence over the pursuers almost equalling that of their leader, the
+Ranger captain, who, with a group gathered around, is now questioning
+the guide as to the next move to be made.
+
+"They can't be very far off now," replies Cully, in answer to the
+captain's interrogatory.  "All the signs show they passed this hyar
+point a good hour arter sun-up.  The dew war off the grass as they druv
+over it, else the blades 'ud a been pressed flatter down.  Besides,
+there's the dead hoss they've left ahint.  Ye see some o' 'em's cut out
+his tongue an' tuk it along for a tit-bit at thar next campin' place.
+Now, as the blood that kim out o' the animal's mouth ain't been long
+cruddled up, thet shows to a sartinty they can't be far forrad.  I
+reck'n I know the adzact spot whar they're squatted."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"Peecawn creek.  There they'll get good water for thar stock, an' the
+shade o' trees to rest unner; the which last they'll take to in this
+hottish spell o' sun."
+
+"If they're upon the Pecan," puts in a third speaker, a tall, lathy
+individual, in a green blanket coat, badly faded, "and anywhere near its
+mouth, we can't be more than five miles from them.  I know this part of
+the country well.  I passed through it last year along with the Santa Fe
+expedition."
+
+"Only five miles!" exclaims another man, whose dress bespeaks a planter
+of respectability, while his woe-begone countenance proclaims him to be
+one of the bereaved.  "Oh, gentlemen I surely our horses are now rested
+enough.  Let us ride forward and fall upon them at once!"
+
+"We'd be durned foolish to do so," responded Cully.  "Thet, Mr Wilton,
+'ud be jest the way to defeet all our plans an' purpisses.  They'd see
+us long afore we ked git sight o' them, an' maybe in time to run off all
+the stolen hosses an' cattle, but sartinly the keptyves."
+
+"What's your way, Cully?" interrogates a lieutenant of the Rangers.
+
+"My way air to wait till the sun go down, then steal torst 'm.  Thar
+boun' to hev fires, an' thet'll guide us right into thar camp.  Ef it's
+in the Peecawn bottom, as I'm pretty sure it air, we kin surround 'em
+eesy.  Thar's bluffs a-both sides, an' we kin divide inter two lots--one
+slippin' roun' an' comin' from up the creek, while t'other approaches
+'em from below.  In thet way we'll make sure o' keepin' 'em from runnin'
+off the weemen; beside it'll gie us the more likelier chance to make a
+good count o' the redskin sculps."
+
+"What do you say, boys?" asks the Ranger captain, addressing himself
+more especially to the men composing his command.
+
+"Cully's right," is the response from a majority of voices.
+
+"Then we must stay here till night.  If we go forward now, they may see
+us before we get within shooting distance.  So you think, Cully, you can
+take up the trail at night, supposing it to be a dark one?"
+
+"Pish!" retorts the old prairie-man, with a disdainful toss of his head.
+
+"Take up the trail o' a Tenawa Injun?  I'd do that in the darkest night
+as iver shet down over a prairie.  The skunks!  I ked smell the place
+they'd passed over."
+
+There is no further discussion.  Cully's opinion is all-powerful, and
+determines the course to be pursued.  The halt intended to be temporary,
+is to continue till near sunset, despite expostulations, almost
+prayerful appeals, from those who have left desolate homes behind, and
+who burn with impatience to ride forward and rescue their captive
+kindred.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.
+
+THE SAVAGES SURPRISED.
+
+Throughout the afternoon hours both parties remained stationary; the
+pursued indulging in a siesta, which days of rough riding and raiding,
+with nights of watchfulness, have made necessary; the pursuers, on their
+part, wearied as well, but unable to sleep so long as their vengeance
+remains unappeased, and such dread danger hangs over the heads of those
+near and dear to them.
+
+Above the bivouacs the black vultures spread their shadowy wings,
+soaring and circling, each "gang" over the cohort it has been all day
+accompanying.
+
+Every now and then between the two "gangs" one is seen coming and going,
+like so many mutual messengers passing between; for, although the flocks
+are far apart, they can see one another, and each is aware, by instinct
+clearer than human ken, what the other is after.  It is not the first
+time for them to follow two such parties travelling across the Texan
+prairie.  Nor will it be the first for them to unite in the air as the
+two troops come into collision on the earth.  Often have these birds,
+poised in the blue ether, looked down upon red carnage like that now
+impending.  Their instincts--let us call them so, for the sake of
+keeping peace with the naturalists of the closet--then admonish them
+what is likely to ensue.  For if not reason, they have at least
+recollection; and as their eyes rest upon men with dusky skins, and
+others dimly white, they know that between such is a terrible
+antagonism, oft accruing to their own interest.  Many a time has it
+given them a meal.  Strange if they should not remember it!
+
+They do.  Though tranquilly soaring on high--each bird with outstretched
+neck and eye bent, in hungry concupiscence, looks below on the forms
+moving or at rest, saying to itself, "Ere long these vermin will furnish
+a rich repast."  So sure are they of this--the birds of both flocks--
+that, although the sun is nigh setting, instead of betaking themselves
+to their roosts, as is their wont, they stay, each by its own pet party.
+Those accompanying the pursuers still fly about in the air.  They can
+tell that these do not intend to remain much longer on that spot.  For
+they have kindled no fires, nor taken other steps that indicate an
+encampment for the night.
+
+Different with those that soar over the halting-place of the pursued.
+As night approaches they draw in their spread wings and settle down to
+roost; some upon trees, others on the ledges of rock, still others on
+the summits of the cliffs that overhang the camping place of the
+Indians.
+
+The blazing fires, with meat on spits sputtering over them; the arms
+abandoned, spears stuck in the ground, with shields suspended; the noise
+and revelry around--all proclaim the resolve of the savages to stay
+there till morning.
+
+An intention which, despite their apparent stolidity--in contradiction
+to the ideas of the closet naturalist and his theory of animal
+instinct--the vultures clearly comprehend.
+
+About the behaviour of the birds the marauders take no note.  They are
+used to seeing turkey-buzzards around--better known to them by the name
+"zopilotes."
+
+For long ere the Anglo-American colonists came in contact with the
+Comanche Indians a Spano-Mexican vocabulary had penetrated to the
+remotest of these tribes.
+
+No new thing for the Tenawas to see the predatory birds swooping above
+them all day and staying near them all night.  Not stranger than a wolf
+keeping close to the sheepfold, or a hungry dog skulking around
+shambles.
+
+As night draws near, and the purple twilight steals over the great Texan
+plain, the party of chasing pursuers is relieved from a stay by all
+deemed so irksome.  Remounting their horses, they leave the scene of
+their reluctant halt, and continue the pursuit silently, as if moving in
+funeral march.
+
+The only sounds heard are the dull thumping of their horses' hoofs upon
+the soft prairie turf; now and then a clink, as one strikes against a
+stone; the occasional tinkle of a canteen as it comes in contact with
+saddle mounting or pistol butt; the champing of bits, with the breathing
+of horses and men.
+
+These last talk in low tones, in mutterings not much louder than
+whispers.  In pursuit of their savage foe, the well-trained Rangers
+habitually proceed thus, and have cautioned the settlers to the same.
+Though these need no compulsion to keep silent; their hearts are too
+sore for speech; their anguish, in its terrible intensity, seeks for no
+expression, till they stand face to face with the red ruffians who have
+caused, and are still causing, it.  The night darkens down, becoming so
+obscure that each horseman can barely distinguish the form of him riding
+ahead.  Some regret this, thinking they may get strayed.  Not so Cully.
+On the contrary, the guide is glad, for he feels confident in his
+conjecture that the pursued will be found in Pecan Creek, and a dark
+night will favour the scheme of attack he has conceived and spoken of.
+Counselled by him, the Ranger captain shares his confidence, and they
+proceed direct towards the point where the tributary stream unites with
+the main river--the little Witchita, along whose banks they have been
+all that day tracking.  Not but that Cully could take up the Indian
+trail.  Despite the obscurity he could do that, though not, as he
+jestingly declared, by the smell.  There are other indices that would
+enable him, known but to men who have spent a lifetime upon the
+prairies.  He does not need them now, sure he will find the savages, as
+he said, "squatted on the Peecawn."
+
+And, sure enough, when the pursuers, at length at the creek's mouth,
+enter the canon through which it disembogues its crystal water into the
+grander and more turbid stream, they discovered certain traces of the
+pursued having passed along its banks.
+
+Another mile of travelling, the same silence observed, with caution
+increased, and there is no longer a doubt about the truth of Cully's
+conjecture.  Noises are heard ahead, sounds disturbing the stillness of
+the night air that are not those of the uninhabited prairie.  There is
+the lowing of cattle, in long monotonous moans, like when being driven
+to slaughter, with, at intervals, the shriller neigh of a horse, as if
+uneasy at being away from his stable.
+
+On hearing these sounds, the Ranger captain, acting by the advice of the
+guide, orders a halt.  Then the pursuing party is separated into two
+distinct troops.  One, led by Cully, ascends the cliff by a lateral
+ravine, and pursues its way along the upper table-land.  The other,
+under the command of the captain, is to remain below until a certain
+time has elapsed, its length stipulated between the two leaders before
+parting.
+
+When it has passed, the second division moves forward up the creek,
+again halting as a light shines through the trees, which, from its
+reddish colour, they know to be the glare of log fires.
+
+They need not this to tell them they are close to an encampment--that of
+the savages they have been pursuing.  They can hear their barbarous
+jargon, mingled with shouts and laughter like that of demons in the
+midst of some fiendish frolic.
+
+They only stay for a signal the guide arranged to give as soon as he has
+got round to attack on the opposite side.  The first shot heard, and
+they will dash forward to the fires.
+
+Seated in their saddles, with reins tight drawn, and heels ready to
+drive home the spur--with glances bent greedily at the gleaming lights,
+and ears keenly alert to catch every sound--the hearts of some trembling
+with fear, others throbbing with hope, still others thrilling with the
+thought of vengeance--they wait for the crack that is to be the signal--
+wait and listen, with difficulty restraining themselves.
+
+It comes at length.  Up the glen peals a loud report, quickly followed
+by another, both from a double-barrelled gun.
+
+This was the signal for attack, arranged by Cully.
+
+Soon as hearing it, the reins are slackened, the spurs sent home, and,
+with a shout making the rocks ring, and the trees reverberate its
+echoes, they gallop straight towards the Indian encampment, and in a
+moment are in its midst.
+
+They meet little resistance--scarce any.  Too far from the settlements
+to fear pursuit--in full confidence they have not been followed, the red
+robbers have been abandoning themselves to pleasure, spending the night
+in a grand gluttonous feast, furnished by the captured kine.
+
+Engrossed with sensual joys, they have neglected guard; and, in the
+midst of their festivities, they are suddenly set upon from all sides;
+the sharp cracking of rifles, with the quick detonation of repeating
+pistols, soon silences their cacchinations, scattering them like chaff.
+
+After the first fusillade, there is but little left of them.  Those not
+instantly shot down retreat in the darkness, skulking of! among the
+pecan trees.  It is altogether an affair of firearms: and for once the
+bowie--the Texan's trusted weapon--has no part in the fray.
+
+The first rays of next morning's sun throw light upon a sanguinary
+scene--a tableau terrible, though not regrettable.  On the contrary, it
+discloses a sight which, but for the red surroundings, might give
+gladness.  Fathers, half frantic with joy, are kissing children they
+never expected to see again; brothers clasping the hands of sisters late
+deemed lost for ever; husbands, nigh broken-hearted, once more happy,
+holding their wives in fond, affectionate embrace.
+
+Near by, things strangely contrasting--corpses strewn over the ground,
+stark and bleeding, but not yet stiff, all of coppery complexion, but
+bedaubed with paint of many diverse colours.  All surely savages.
+
+A fearful spectacle, but one too often witnessed on the far frontier
+land of Texas.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.
+
+A FORCED CONFESSION.
+
+The party of Texans has made what prairie men call a "coup."  On
+counting the corpses of their slain enemies they find that at least
+one-half of the Tenawa warriors have fallen, including their chief.
+They can make an approximate estimate of the number that was opposed to
+them by the signs visible around the camp, as also upon the trail they
+have been for several days following.  Those who escaped have got off,
+some on their horses, hastily caught and mounted; others afoot, by
+taking to the timber.  They were not pursued, as it was still dark night
+when the action ended, and by daylight these wild centaurs, well
+acquainted with the country, will have scattered far and wide, beyond
+all likelihood of being again encountered.
+
+The settlers are satisfied at having recovered their relatives, as also
+their stolen stock.  As to the Rangers, enough has been accomplished to
+slake their revengeful thirst--for the time.  These last, however, have
+not come off unscathed; for the Comanches, well armed with guns, bows,
+and lances, did not die unresistingly.  In Texas Indians rarely do, and
+never when they engage in a fight with Rangers.  Between them and these
+border _guerrilleros_--in one sense almost as much savages as
+themselves--war is an understood game--to the bitter end, with no
+quarter either asked or given.
+
+The Rangers count three of their number killed and about twice as many
+wounded--enough, considering the advantage they had in their unwarned
+attack upon enemies who for once proved unwatchful.
+
+When the conflict has finally come to a close, and daylight makes
+manifest the result, the victors take possession of the spoil--most of
+it their own property.  The horses that strayed or stampeded during the
+fight are again collected into a drove--those of the Indians being
+united to it.  This done, only a short stay is intended--just long
+enough to bury the bodies of the three Rangers who have been killed, get
+stretchers prepared for such of the wounded as are unable to sit in the
+saddle, and make other preparations for return towards the settlements.
+
+They do not hasten their departure through any apprehension of a
+counter-attack on the side of the Comanches.  Fifty Texan Rangers--and
+there are this number of them--have no fear on any part of the plains,
+so long as they are mounted on good horses, carry rifles in their hands,
+bowie-knives and pistols in their belts, with a sufficient supply of
+powder in their flasks, and bullets in their pouches.  With all these
+items they are amply provided; and were there now any necessity for
+continuing the pursuit, or the prospect of striking another coup, they
+would go on, even though the chase should conduct them into the defiles
+of the Rocky Mountains.  To pursue and slay the savage is their
+vocation, their duty, their pastime and pleasure.
+
+But the settlers are desirous of a speedy return to their homes, that
+they may relieve the anxiety of other dear ones, who there await them.
+They long to impart the glad tidings they will take with them.
+
+While the preparations for departure are going on, Cully--who, with
+several others, has been collecting the arms and accoutrements of their
+slain enemies--gives utterance to a cry that brings a crowd of his
+comrades around him.
+
+"What is it, Nat?" inquires the Ranger captain.
+
+"Look hyar, cap!  D'ye see this gun?"
+
+"Yes; a hunter's rifle.  Whose is it?"
+
+"That's jess the questyin; though thar ain't no questyin about it.
+Boys, do any o' ye recognise this hyar shootin' iron?"
+
+One after another the Rangers step up, and look at the rifle.
+
+"I do," says one.
+
+"And I," adds another.
+
+And a third, and fourth, make the same affirmation, all speaking in
+tones of surprise.
+
+"Walt Wilder's gun," continues Cully, "sure an' sartin.  I know it, an
+oughter know it.  See them two letters in the stock thar--`WW.'  Old Nat
+Cully hez good reezun to recconise them, since 'twas hisself that cut
+'em.  I did it for Walt two yeern ago, when we war scoutin' on the
+Collyrado.  It's his weepun, an' no mistake."
+
+"Where did you find it?" inquires the captain.
+
+"I've jess tuk it out o' the claws o' the ugliest Injun as ever made
+trail on a puraira--that beauty thar, whose karkidge the buzzards won't
+be likely to tech."
+
+While speaking Cully points to a corpse.  It is that of the Tenawa
+chief, already identified among the slain.
+
+"He must a' hed it in his clutch when suddenly shot down," pursues the
+guide.  "An' whar did he git it?  Boys, our ole kummerade's wiped out
+for sartin.  I know how Walt loved that thar piece.  He w'udn't a parted
+wi' it unless along wi' his life."
+
+This is the conviction of several others acquainted with Wilder.  It is
+the company of Rangers to which he formerly belonged.
+
+"Thar's been foul play somewhar," continues Cully.  "Walt went back to
+the States--to Kaintuck, ef this chile ain't mistook.  But 'tain't
+likely he stayed thar; he kedn't keep long off o' the purairas.  I tell
+ye, boys, these hyar Injens hev been makin' mischief somewhar'.  Look
+thar, look at them leggin's!  Thar's no eend o' white sculps on' 'em,
+an' fresh tuk, too!"
+
+The eyes of all turned towards these terrible trophies that in gory
+garniture fringe the buck-skin leg-wear of the savages.  Cully, with
+several others who knew Wilder well, proceed to examine them, in full
+expectation of finding among them the skin of their old comrade's head.
+There are twelve scalps, all of white men, with others that are Indian,
+and not a few that exhibit the equally black, but shorter crop of the
+Mexican.  Those that are indubitably of white men show signs of having
+been recently taken, but none of them can be identified as the scalp of
+Walt Wilder.
+
+There is some relief in this, for his old comrades love.  Walt.  Still,
+there is the damning evidence of the gun, which Cully declares could
+only have been taken from him along with his life.  How has it got into
+the hands of the Horned Lizard?
+
+"I reckon we can settle that," says the Captain of the Rangers.  "The
+renegade ought to know something about it."
+
+This speech refers to Barbato, who has been taken prisoner, and about
+whose disposal they have already commenced to deliberate.  His beard
+betrayed him as a renegade; and, the paint having been partially wiped
+from his skin, all perceive that he is a white man--a Mexican.  Some are
+for shooting him on the spot, others propose hanging, while only a few
+of the more humane advocate taking him on to the settlements and there
+giving him a trial.  He will have to die anyhow--that is pretty sure;
+for not only as a Mexican is he their enemy, but now doubly so from
+being found in league with their most detested foes, the Tenawa
+Comanches.
+
+The wretch is lying on the ground near by, shaking with fear, in spite
+of the fastenings in which he is tightly held.  He knows he is in dire
+danger, and has only so far escaped through having surrendered to a
+settler instead of to one of the Rangers.
+
+"Let's gie him a chance o' his life; ef he'll tell all about it,"
+counsels Cully.  "What d'ye say, cap?"
+
+"I agree to that," responds the Ranger captain.  "He don't appear to be
+worth shooting; though it may be as well to take him on to the
+settlements, and shut him up in prison.  The promise of pardon may get
+out of him all he knows; if not, the other will.  He's not an Indian,
+and a bit of rope looped round his neck will, no doubt, loosen his
+tongue.  Suppose we try boys?"
+
+The "boys" are unanimous in their assent, and the renegade is at once
+brought up for examination.  The man in the green blanket coat, who, as
+a Santa Fe expeditioner, has spent over twelve months in Mexican
+prisons, is appointed examiner.  He has been long enough among the
+"yellerbellies" to have learnt their language.
+
+The renegade is for a time reticent, and his statements are
+contradictory.  No wonder he declines to tell what has occurred, so
+compromising to himself!  But when the _lariat_ is at length noosed
+around his neck, the loose end of it thrown over the limb of a pecan
+tree--the other conditions being clearly expounded to him--he sees that
+things can be no worse; and, seeing this, makes confession--full, if not
+free.  He discloses everything--the attack and capture of the caravan,
+with the slaughter of the white men who accompanied it; he tells of the
+retreat of two of them to the cliff, one of whom, by the description,
+can be none other than Walt Wilder.  When he at length comes to describe
+the horrible mode in which their old comrade has perished, the Rangers
+are almost frenzied with rage, and it is with difficulty some of them
+can be withheld from breaking their given word, and tearing him limb
+from limb.
+
+He makes appeal to them for mercy, stating that he himself had no part
+in that transaction; that, although they have found him among the
+Indians, he was only as their prisoner; and forced to fight along with
+them.
+
+This is evidently untrue; but, false or true, it has the effect of
+pacifying his judges, so far, that the _lariat_ is left loose around his
+neck.
+
+Further examination, and cross-examination, elicit other facts about the
+captured caravan--in short, everything, except the secret alliance
+between the Mexican officer and the Tenawa chief.  Not thinking of
+this--in truth, having no suspicion of it--his examiners do not put any
+questions about it; and, for himself, the wretch sees no reason to
+declare it, but the contrary.  He indulges in the hope of one day
+returning to the Del Norte, and renewing his relations with Colonel Gil
+Uraga.
+
+"Comrades!" cries the Ranger captain, addressing himself to his men, as
+soon as the examination is concluded, "you all of you loved Walt
+Wilder--all who knew him?"
+
+"We did! we did!" is the response feelingly spoken.  "So did I.  Well,
+he's dead, beyond a doubt.  It's nearly a month ago, and he could not
+last so long, shut up in that cave.  His bones will be there, with those
+of the other poor fellow, whoever he was, that went in with him.  It's
+dreadful to think of it!  Now, from what this scoundrel says, it can't
+be so very far from here.  And, as we can make him guide us to the
+place, I propose we go there, get the remains of our old comrade, and
+give them Christian burial."
+
+With the Texan Rangers obedience to duty is less a thing of command than
+request; and this is a request of such nature as to receive instant and
+unanimous assent "Let us go!" is the universal response.  "We needn't
+all make this journey," continues the captain.  "There's no need for any
+more than our own boys, the Rangers, and such of the settlers as may
+choose to go with us.  The rest, who have to look after the women, and
+some for driving back the stock, can make their way home at once.  I
+reckon we've left the track pretty clear of Indians, and they'll be in
+no further danger from them."
+
+Without further discussion, this arrangement is decided upon; and the
+two parties commence making the preparations suitable to their
+respective plans.
+
+In less than half an hour after they separate; the settlers, with the
+women, children, and cattle, wending their way eastward; while the
+Rangers, guided by the renegade, ride off in the opposite direction--
+toward the Llano Estacado.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.
+
+A PROPOSAL BY PROXY.
+
+Day by day Hamersley grows stronger, and is able to be abroad.
+
+Soon after Wilder, plucking him by the sleeve, makes request to have his
+company at some distance from the dwelling.
+
+Hamersley accedes to the request, though not without some surprise.  In
+the demeanour of his comrade there is an air of mystery.  As this is
+unusual with the ex-Ranger, he has evidently something of importance to
+communicate.
+
+Not until they have got well out of sight of the house, and beyond the
+earshot of anyone inside or around it, does Walt say a word.  And then
+only after they have come to a stop in the heart of a cotton-wood copse,
+where a prostrate trunk offers them the accommodation of a seat.
+
+Sitting down upon it, and making sign to Hamersley, still with the same
+mysterious air, to do likewise, the backwoodsman at length begins to
+unburden himself.
+
+"Frank," says he, "I've brought ye out hyar to hev a little spell o'
+talk, on a subjeck as consarns this coon consid'able."
+
+"What subject, Walt?"
+
+"Wal, it's about a wumman."
+
+"A woman!  Why, Walt Wilder, I should have supposed that would be the
+farthest thing from your thoughts, especially a such a time and in such
+a place as this."
+
+"True it shed, as ye say.  For all that, ef this chile don't
+misunnerstan' the sign, a wumman ain't the furrest thing from yur
+thoughts, at the same time an' place."
+
+The significance of the observation causes the colour to start to the
+cheeks of the young prairie merchant, late so pale.  He stammers out an
+evasive rejoinder,--
+
+"Well, Walt; you wish to have a talk with me.  I'm ready to hear what
+you have to say.  Go on!  I'm listening."
+
+"Wal, Frank, I'm in a sort o' a quandary wi' a critter as wears
+pettikotes, an' I want a word o' advice from ye.  You're more practised
+in thar ways than me.  Though a good score o' year older than yurself, I
+hain't hed much to do wi' weemen, 'ceptin' Injun squaws an' now an' agin
+a yeller gurl down by San Antone.  But them scrapes wan't nothin' like
+thet Walt Wilder heve got inter now."
+
+"A scrape!  What sort of a scrape?  I hope you haven't--"
+
+"Ye needn't talk o' hope, Frank Hamersley.  The thing air past hopin',
+an' past prayin' for.  Ef this chile know anythin' o' the signs o' love,
+he has goed a good ways along its trail.  Yis, sir-ee; too fur to think
+o' takin' the backtrack."
+
+"On that trail, indeed?"
+
+"Thet same; whar Cyubit sots his little feet, 'ithout neer a moccasin on
+'em.  Yis, kummerade, Walt Wilder, for oncest in in his kureer, air in a
+difeequelty; an' thet difeequelty air bein' fool enuf to fall in love--
+the which he hez dun, sure, sartin."
+
+Hamersley gives a shrug of surprise, accompanied with a slight glance of
+indignation.  Walt Wilder in love!  With whom can it be?  As he can
+himself think of only one woman worth falling in love with, either in
+that solitary spot, or elsewhere on earth, it is but natural his
+thoughts should turn to her.
+
+Only for an instant, however.  The idea of having the rough Ranger for a
+rival is preposterous.  Walt, pursuing the theme, soon convinces him he
+has no such lofty aspirations.
+
+"Beyond a doubt, she's been an' goed an' dud it--that air garl
+Concheeter.  Them shining eyes o' her'n hev shot clar through this
+chile's huntin' shirt, till thar's no peace left inside o' it.  I hain't
+slep a soun' wink for mor'en a week o' nights; all the time dreemin' o'
+the gurl, as ef she war a angel a hoverin' 'bout my head.  Now, Frank,
+what am I ter do?  That's why I've axed ye to kum out hyar, and enter
+into this confaberlation."
+
+"Well, Walt, you shall be welcome to my advice.  As to what you should
+do, that's clear enough; but what you may or can do will depend a good
+deal on what Miss Conchita says.  Have you spoken to her upon the
+subject?"
+
+"Thar hain't yit been much talk atween us--i'deed not any, I mout say.
+Ye know I can't parley thar lingo.  But I've approached her wi' as much
+skill as I iver did bear or buffler.  An', if signs signerfy anythin',
+she ain't bad skeeart about it.  Contrarywise, Frank.  If I ain't
+terribly mistuk, she shows as ef she'd be powerful willin' to hev me."
+
+"If she be so disposed there can't be much difficulty in the matter.
+You mean to marry her, I presume?"
+
+"In coorse I duz--that for sartin'.  The feelin's I hev torst that gurl
+air diffrent to them as one hez for Injun squaws, or the queeries I've
+danced wi' in the fandangoes o' San Antone.  Ef she'll agree to be myen,
+I meen nothin' short o' the hon'rable saramony o' marridge--same as
+atween man an' wife.  What do ye think o't?"
+
+"I think, Walt, you might do worse than get married.  You're old enough
+to become a Benedict, and Conchita appears to be just the sort of girl
+that would suit you.  I've heard it said that these Mexican women make
+the best of wives--when married to Americans."
+
+Hamersley smiles, as though this thought were pleasant to him.
+
+"There are several things," he continues, "that it will be necessary for
+you to arrange before you can bring about the event you're aiming at.
+First, you must get the girl's consent: and, I should think, also that
+of her master and mistress.  They are, as it were, her guardians, and,
+to a certain extent, responsible for her being properly bestowed.  Last
+of all, you'll require the sanction of the Church.  This, indeed, may be
+your greatest difficulty.  To make you and your sweetheart one, a
+priest, or Protestant clergyman, will be needed; and neither can be had
+very conveniently here, in the centre of the Staked Plain."
+
+"Durn both sorts!" exclaims the ex-Ranger in a tone of chagrin.  "Ef't
+warn't for the need o' 'em jest now, I say the Staked Plain air better
+'ithout 'em, as wu'd anywars else.  Why can't she an' me be tied
+thegither 'ithout any sech senseless saramony?  Walt Wilder wants no
+mumblin' o' prayers at splicin' him to the gurl he's choosed for his
+partner.  An' why shed thar be, supposin' we both gie our mutooal
+promises one to the tother?"
+
+"True.  But that would not be marriage such as would lawfully and
+legally make you man and wife."
+
+"Doggone the lawfulness or legullity o' it!  Priest or no priest, I want
+Concheteter for my squaw; an' I've made up my mind to hev her.  Say,
+Frank!  Don't ye think the old doc ked do it?  He air a sort o'
+professional."
+
+"No, no; the doctor would be of no use in that capacity.  It's his
+business to unite broken bones, not hands and hearts.  But, Walt, if you
+are really resolved on the thing, there will, no doubt, be an
+opportunity to carry out your intention in a correct and legitimate
+manner.  You must be patient, however, and wait till you come across
+either a priest or a Protestant clergyman."
+
+"Doggoned ef I care which," is the rejoinder of the giant.  "Eyther'll
+do; an' one o' 'em 'ud be more nor surficient, ef 't war left ter Walt
+Wilder.  But, hark'ee, Frank!" he continues, his face assuming an astute
+expression, "I'd like to be sure 'bout the thing now--that is, to get
+the gurl's way o' thinking on 't.  Fact is, I've made up my mind to be
+sure, so as thar may be no slips or back kicks."
+
+"Sure, how?"
+
+"By procurin' her promise; getting betrothed, as they call it."
+
+"There can be no harm in that.  Certainly not."
+
+"Wal, I'm gled you think so; for I've sot my traps for the thing, an'
+baited 'em too.  Thet air's part o' my reezun for askin' ye out hyar.
+She's gin me the promise o' a meetin' 'mong these cotton woods, an' may
+kum at any minnit.  Soon's she does, I'm agoin' to perpose to her; an' I
+want to do it in reg'lar, straightforrard way.  As I can't palaver
+Spanish, an' you kin, I know'd ye wudn't mind transleetin' atween us.
+Ye won't, will ye?"
+
+"I shall do that with the greatest pleasure, if you wish it.  But don't
+you think, Walt, you might learn what you want to know without any
+interpreter?  Conchita may not like my interference in an affair of such
+a delicate nature.  Love's language is said to be universal, and by it
+you should understand one another."
+
+"So fur's thet's consarned, I reck'n we do.  But she, bein' a Mexikin,
+may hev queery ideas about it; an' I want her promise guv in tarms from
+which thar'll be no takin' the back track; same's I meen to give myen."
+
+"All right, old fellow.  I'll see you get such a promise, or none."
+
+"Thet's satisfactory, Frank.  Now, as this chile air agoin' to put the
+thing stiff an' strong, do you transleet it in the same sort."
+
+"Trust me, it shall be done--_verbatim et literatim_."
+
+"Thet's the way!" joyfully exclaims Walt; thinking that the _verbatim et
+literatim_--of the meaning of which he has not the slightest
+conception--will be just the thing to clinch his bargain with Conchita.
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+The singular contract between the prairie merchant and his _ci-devant_
+guide has just reached conclusion as a rustling is heard among the
+branches of the cottonwoods, accompanied by a soft footstep.
+
+Looking around, they see Conchita threading her way through the grove.
+Her steps, cautious and stealthy, would tell of an "appointment," even
+were this not already known to them.  Her whole bearing is that of one
+on the way to meet a lover; and the sight of Walt Wilder, who now rises
+erect to receive her, proclaims him to be the man.
+
+It might appear strange that she does not shy back, on seeing him in
+company with another man.  She neither starts nor shows any shyness;
+evidence that the presence of the third party is a thing understood and
+pre-arranged.
+
+She advances without show of timidity; and, curtseying to the "Senor
+Francisco," as she styles Hamersley, takes seat upon the log from which
+he has arisen; Walt laying hold of her hand and gallantly conducting her
+to it.
+
+There is a short interregnum of silence.  This Conchita's sweetheart
+endeavours to fill up with a series of gestures that might appear
+uncouth but for the solemnity of the occasion.  So considered, they may
+be deemed graceful, even dignified.
+
+Perhaps not thinking them so himself, Walt soon seeks relief by turning
+to his interpreter, and making appeal to him as follows--
+
+"Doggone it, Frank!  Ye see I don't know how to talk to her, so you do
+the palaverin.  Tell her right off, what I want.  Say I hain't got much
+money, but a pair o' arems strong enuf to purtect her, thro' thick an'
+thro' thin, agin the dangers o' the mountain an' the puraira, grizzly
+bars, Injuns, an' all.  She sees this chile hev got a big body; ye kin
+say to her thet his heart ain't no great ways out o' correspondence wi'
+his karkidge.  Then tell her in the eend, thet his body an' his hands
+an' heart--all air offered to her; an' if she'll except 'em they shall
+be hern, now, evermore, an' to the death--so help me God!"
+
+As the hunter completes his proposal thus ludicrously, though
+emphatically pronounced, he brings his huge hand down upon his brawny
+breast with a slap like the crack of a cricket bat.
+
+Whatever meaning the girl may make out of his words, she can have had no
+doubt about their earnestness or sincerity, judging by the gestures that
+accompany them.
+
+Hamersley can scarce restrain his inclination to laugh; but with an
+effort he subdues it, and faithfully, though not very literally,
+translates the proposal into Spanish.
+
+When, as Walt supposes, he has finished, the ex-Ranger rises to his feet
+and stands awaiting the answer, his huge frame trembling like the leaf
+of an aspen.  He continues to shake all the while Conchita's response is
+being delivered; though her first words would assure, and set his nerves
+at rest, could he but understand them.  But he knows not his fate, till
+it has passed through the tedious transference from one language to
+another--from Spanish to his own native tongue.
+
+"Tell him," is the response of Conchita, given without sign of
+insincerity, "tell him that I love him as much as he can me.  That I
+loved him from the first moment of our meeting, and shall love him to
+the end of my life.  In reply to his honourable proposal, say to him
+yes.  I am willing to become his wife."
+
+When the answer is translated to Walt, he bounds at least three feet
+into the air, with a shout of triumph such as he might give over the
+fall of an Indian foe.
+
+Then, advancing towards the girl, he flings his great arms around her,
+lifts her from the ground as if she were a child's doll; presses her to
+his broad, throbbing breast, and imprints a kiss upon her lips--the
+concussion of which can be heard far beyond the borders of the
+cottonwood copse.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.
+
+A DANGEROUS EAVESDROPPER.
+
+However successful in his suit with Conchita, Walt Wilder is not without
+a rival.  Hamersley has reason to suspect this soon after separating
+from the lovers, which he does, leaving them to themselves.  It has
+occurred to him, that the presence of more than two on that spot can be
+no longer desirable.  His part has been performed, and he withdraws
+without saying a word.
+
+There is a third man, notwithstanding--a spectator--whose breast is
+stirred with terrible emotion.
+
+As the Kentuckian passes out through the copse, he catches sight of a
+figure crouching behind the trunk of a tree--apparently that of a man.
+Twilight is now on, and beneath the leafy branches reigns an obscurity
+almost equalling night.  What he sees may be some straying animal, or
+perhaps it is only fancy.  His thoughts are engrossed with that which
+carries him on towards the house.  There one will be awaiting him, in
+whose refined presence he will soon forget the uncouth spectacle of
+courtship at which he has been assisting.
+
+But the form he has observed cowering under the shadow of the
+cotton-woods was no fancy, nor four-footed creature, but a human being,
+a man--in short, Manuel the Indian.
+
+Manuel is mad in love with the little mestiza, who, with Spanish blood
+in her veins, is, nevertheless, maternally of his own race--that of the
+_Indios mansos_, or "tame Indians," of New Mexico--so called in
+contradistinction to the _Indios bravos_, the savages who, from the
+conquest till this day, have never submitted themselves to Spanish rule.
+Though Christianised, after a fashion, by the Franciscans, with others
+of the missionary fathers--living in walled towns, each with its
+_capilla_ or church, and cultivating the lands around, many of these
+so-called Christian Indians still continue to practice Pagan rites, more
+or less openly.  In some of their villages, it is said, the _estafa_, or
+sacred fire, is kept burning, and has never been permitted to go out
+since the time of Montezuma, from whom and his people they believe
+themselves descended.  They are undoubtedly of Aztec race, and
+sun-worshippers, as were the subjects of the unfortunate Emperor of
+Tenochtitlas.
+
+Travellers who have visited their more remote "pueblos" have witnessed
+something of this sun-worship, seeing them ascend to the flat roofs of
+their singularly constructed houses, and there stand in fixed attitude,
+devoutly gazing at the sun as it ascends over the eastern horizon.
+
+Notwithstanding the epithet "tame," which their Spanish conquerors have
+applied to them, they are still more than half wild; and, upon
+occasions, the savage instinct shows itself in deeds of cruelty and
+blood.
+
+This very instinct has been kindled in the heart of Manuel.  It was not
+devotion to Don Valerian Miranda that moved him to follow the fortunes
+of his master into exile; his love for Conchita accounts for his
+presence there.  And he loves her with an ardour and singleness of
+passion such as often burns in the breasts of his people.
+
+The girl has given him no encouragement, rather the reverse.  For all
+that, he has pursued her with zealous solicitation, regardless of
+rebuffs and apparently unconscious of her scorn.
+
+Hitherto he has had no rival, which has hindered him from despairing.
+Conchita is still young, in her earliest teens, having just turned
+twelve.  But even at this age a New Mexican maiden is deemed old enough
+for matrimony; and Manuel, to do justice to him, has eyes upon her with
+this honest intent.  For months he had made up his mind to have her for
+his wife--long before their forced flight into the Llano Estacado.  And
+now that they are in the desert, with no competitor near--for Chico does
+not count as one--he has fancied the time come for the consummation of
+his hopes.
+
+But just when the fair fruit seems ripe for plucking, like the fox in
+the fable, he discovers it is beyond his reach.  What is worse still,
+another, taller than he, and who can reach higher, is likely to gather
+it.
+
+Ever since the arrival of Walt Wilder in the valley he has been watching
+the movements of the latter.
+
+Not without observing that between the great Texan hunter and the little
+Mexican _muchacha_ there has sprung up an attachment of a suspicious
+nature.
+
+He has not heard them express it in speech, for in this way they cannot
+communicate with one another; but certain looks and gestures exchanged,
+unintelligible to others, have been easily interpreted by the Indian as
+the signs of a secret and mutual understanding between them.
+
+They have driven the poor peon well nigh distracted with jealousy--felt
+all the keener from its being his first experience of it, all the
+angrier from consciousness of his own honest love--while he believes
+that of the intruder to have a different intent.
+
+As the days and hours pass he observes new incidents to sharpen his
+suspicions and strengthen his jealous ire.
+
+In fine, he arrives at the conclusion that Conchita--long loved by him,
+long vainly solicited--has surrendered her heart to the gigantic Texan,
+who like a sinister shadow, a ghoul, a very ogre, has chanced across the
+sunlight of his path.
+
+Under the circumstances, what is he to do?  He is powerful in passion,
+but weak in physical strength.  Compared with his rival, he is nought.
+In a conflict the Texan would crush him, squeeze the breath out of his
+body, as a grizzly bear would that of a prairie squirrel or ground
+gopher.
+
+He does not show open antagonism--does not think of it.  He knows it
+would but end in his ruin--his utter annihilation.
+
+Still, he is not despairing.
+
+With the instincts peculiar to his race, he contemplates revenge.  All
+his idle hours are spent brooding over plans to frustrate the designs of
+his rival--in short, to put him out of the way altogether.
+
+More than once has a thought of poison passed through his mind as the
+surest way of effecting his fiendish purpose, as also the safest; and
+upon this mode of killing the Texan he has at length determined.
+
+That very day he has been engaged in making ready for the deed--
+preparing the potion.  Certain plants he has found growing in the
+valley, well known among his people as poisonous, will furnish him with
+the means of death--a slow, lingering death, therefore all the surer to
+avert suspicion from the hand that has dealt it.
+
+To all appearance, Walt Wilder is doomed.  He has escaped the spears,
+arrows, and tomahawks of the Tenawa savages to fall a victim to a
+destroyer, stealthy, subtle, unseen.
+
+And is the noble Texan--guide, ranger, and hunter--thus sadly to
+succumb?  No.  Fate has not decreed his death by such insidious means.
+A circumstance, apparently accidental, steps in to save him.  On this
+very day, when the poison it being prepared for him, the poisoner
+receives a summons that for the time at least, will frustrate his foul
+plans.  His master commands him to make ready for a journey.  It is an
+errand similar to that he has been several times sent upon before.  He
+is to proceed to the settlements on the Rio Grande, where Don Valerian
+has friends with whom, in his exile, he keeps up secret correspondence,
+Manuel acting as messenger.  Thence the trusted peon is to bring back,
+as oft before, despatches, news, provisions--the last now more than ever
+needed, on account of the stranger guests so unexpectedly thrown upon
+his hospitality.
+
+Manuel is to commence his journey on the following day at the earliest
+hour of dawn.  There will be no chance for him now to carry out his
+nefarious design.  It must remain uncompleted till his return.
+
+While chafing at the disappointment, he sees Conchita stealing out from
+the house and entering the cotton-wood grove.  He follows her with a
+caution equalling her own, but from a far different cause.  Crouching on
+through the trees, he takes stand behind a trunk, and, concealed by it,
+becomes spectator of all that passes.  He is at first surprised at
+seeing three where he expected only two.  Pleased also; for it gives him
+hope the girl's errand may not be the keeping of a love appointment.
+But as the triangular conference proceeds; above all, when it arrives at
+its conclusion, and he sees the Texan raise Conchita in his arms, giving
+her that kiss, the echo of which is distinctly audible to him, his blood
+boils, and with difficulty does he restrain himself from rushing up to
+the spot, and taking the lives of all three, or ending his own if he
+fail.
+
+For a time he stands erect, with his _machete_ drawn from its sheath,
+his eyes flashing with the fires of jealous vengeance.  Fortunately for
+those upon whom they are bent, an instinct of self-preservation stays
+him.  His hand is ready, but his heart fails him.  Terrible as is his
+anger, it is yet controlled by fear.  He will wait for a more favourable
+time and surer opportunity.  A safer means, too--this more than aught
+else restraining him.  While still in intense agitation, he sees
+Hamersley depart, leaving the other two to themselves.  And now, as
+other kisses are exchanged between the lovers, his jealous fury becomes
+freshly excited, and for the second time he is half resolved to rush
+forward and kill--kill.
+
+But again his fears gain the ascendency, and his hand refuses to obey
+the dictates of his angry heart.  With the bare blade held tremblingly,
+he continues spectator of that scene which fills his breast with
+blackest, bitterest emotion.  He has not the courage to interrupt it.
+Calculating the chances, he perceives they are against him.  Should he
+succeed in killing the Texan, with Conchita standing by and bearing
+witness to the deed, would be to forfeit his own life.  He could find it
+in his heart to kill her too; but that would lead to the same result.
+Failing in his first blow, the great hunter would have him under his
+heel, to be crushed as a crawling reptile.
+
+Thus cogitating, he sticks to his place of concealment, and overlooks
+the love scene to its termination; then permits the lovers to depart in
+peace--the woman he so wildly loves, the man he so madly hates.
+
+After they have gone out of the grove, he advances towards the log upon
+which they were seated.  Himself taking seat on it, he there ponders
+upon a plan of vengeance surer and safer than the assassin's steel.
+
+It is no longer his intent to employ poison.  A new idea has entered his
+brain--has been in it ever since receiving notice of the journey on
+which he is about to set forth; in truth, suggested by this.  A scheme
+quite as efficient as poisoning, but also having a purpose far more
+comprehensive, for it includes others besides his rival the Ranger.  Of
+late neglectful of his duties, Colonel Miranda has severely chided him,
+thus kindling the hereditary antipathy of his race towards the white
+man.
+
+His master is to be among the victims--in short, all of them, his
+fellow-servant, Chico, excepted.  Should the diabolical plan prove a
+success, not one of them can escape ruin, and most of them may meet
+death.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.
+
+A TALE OF PERIL.
+
+Thanks to the skill of Don Prospero, exerted with kind assiduity,
+Hamersley's wounds are soon healed, his strength completely restored.
+Doubtless the tender nursing of the "angel" has something to do with his
+rapid recovery, while her presence, cheerful as gentle, does much to
+remove the gloom from his spirits, caused by the terrible disaster he
+had sustained.  Long before reaching convalescence he has ceased to
+lament the loss of his property, and only sorrows as he reflects on the
+fate of his brave followers, whose lives were sacrificed in the effort
+to preserve it.
+
+Happily, however, as time passes the retrospect of the red carnage loses
+something of its sanguinary hue, its too vivid tints becoming gradually
+obscured in the oblivion of the past with the singular surroundings of
+the present.  Amid these his spirit yields itself to pleasanter
+reflections.  How could it be otherwise?
+
+Still, with restored strength, his curiosity has been increasing, till
+it has reached a point of keenness requiring to be satisfied.  He
+wonders at all around him, especially the strange circumstance of
+finding his old friend and duelling second in such an out-of-the-way
+place.  As yet, Miranda has only given him a hint, though one pretty
+much explaining all.  There has been a revolution; and they are
+refugees.
+
+But the young Kentuckian is curious to learn the details, about which,
+for some reason, the Mexican has hitherto preserved silence.  His
+reticence has been due to an injunction of the doctor, who, still under
+some anxiety about the recovery of his patient, forbade imparting to him
+particulars that might have an injurious effect on his nervous system,
+sadly debilitated by the shock it has received.
+
+Don Prospero is an acute observer.  He perceives the growing interest
+which Hamersley takes in the sister of his host.  He knows the story of
+the Chihuahua duel; and thinks that the other story--that of the
+disastrous revolution--told in detail, might retard the convalescence of
+his patient.  Counselled by him, Colonel Miranda has refrained from
+communicating it.
+
+Ignorant of the cause, Hamersley is all the more eager to learn it.
+Still, his curiosity does not impel him to importunate inquiry.  In the
+companionship of such kind friends he can afford to be patient.
+
+Walt Wilder has no curiosity of any kind.  His thoughts have become
+centred, his whole soul wrapped up in Conchita.  The heart of the
+colossal hunter has received a shock such as it never had before; for,
+as he declared himself, he is in love for the first time in his life.
+
+Not but that he has made love before, after a fashion.  For he has
+shared his tent with more than one Indian squaw, drank and danced with
+those nondescript damsels who now and then find their way to the forts
+of the fur-traders scattered among the Rocky Mountains and along the
+border-land of the prairies.  To all this he has confessed.
+
+But these have been only interludes, "trifling love scrapes."  His
+present affair with the little mestiza is different.  Her sparkling
+black eyes pierced deeper and more direct--"straight plum-centre to his
+heart," as, in professional jargon, he described it.
+
+The invalid is at length convalescent; the doctor removes the seal of
+injunction placed upon the lips of Colonel Miranda, and the latter
+fulfils his promise made to give a narrative of the events which have
+led to their residence in that remote and solitary spot.
+
+The two seated together sipping Paseno wine and smoking cigars, the
+Mexican commences his tale.
+
+"We are refugees, as I've already stated, and came here to save our
+heads.  At least, there was danger of my losing mine--or, rather, the
+certainty of it--had we not succeeded in making our escape from
+Albuquerque.  The word _pronunciamento_ explains all.  A revolt of the
+troops under my command, with a name, that of the leader, will give you
+a key to the whole affair."
+
+"Uraga!" exclaims Hamersley, the word coming mechanically from his red
+lips; while a cloud passes over his brow, and a red flush flecks the
+pallor on his cheeks.  "Captain Uraga!  'Twas he?"
+
+"It was."
+
+"The scoundrel!  I thought so."
+
+"Not Captain Uraga now, but Colonel; for the reward of his treason
+reached him simultaneously with its success, and the traitor is now in
+command of the district from which I have been, deposed.  Not only that,
+but, as I have heard, he has appropriated my house--the same where,
+twelve months ago, I had the pleasure of showing you some hospitality.
+Contrasting it with our present humble abode, you will see, senor, that
+my family affairs have not prospered, any more than my political
+fortunes.  But to the narration.
+
+"Not long after you left us I made application to the Government for an
+increase to the mounted force at my disposal.  This had become necessary
+for due protection of the district from our warlike neighbours in the
+west--the Navajoes.  They had made several raids upon the river
+settlements, and carried off goods, cattle, and a number of captives.
+The force I had made requisition for was obtained; but not the right
+men, or at least the officers I should have chosen to command it.  A
+troop of light cavalry was sent me--Lancers.  You may imagine my
+chagrin, not to say disgust, when I saw Captain Gil Uraga at its head.
+Marching into the town of Albuquerque, he reported himself for duty.
+
+"I need not tell you how unpleasant it was for me to have such a fellow
+for subordinate.  In addition to our Chihuahua duel, there were many
+reasons for my having an aversion to him--one, and not the least, that
+which I have already hinted to you--his pretensions to be the suitor of
+my sister."
+
+Hamersley writhes as he listens, the red spot on his cheek spreading and
+flushing redder.
+
+Miranda proceeds--
+
+"He continued his ill-received attentions whenever chance gave him an
+opportunity.  It was not often.  I took care of that; though, but for
+precautions and my authority as his superior officer, his advances
+would, no doubt, have been bolder--in short, persecutions.  I knew that
+to my sister, as to myself, his presence was disagreeable, but there was
+no help for it.  I could not have him removed.  In all matters of
+military duty he took care to act so that there should be no pretext for
+a charge against him.  Besides, I soon found that he was in favour with
+one of the Government dignitaries.  Though I did not then know why, I
+learnt it afterwards; and why he, of all others, had been sent to
+Albuquerque.  The _sap_ had commenced for a new revolution, and he was
+one of its secret fomenters.  He had been chosen by the _parti pretre_
+as a fitting agent to act in that district, of which, like myself, he
+was a native.
+
+"Having no suspicion of this, I only thought of him in regard to his
+impertinent solicitation of my sister; and against this I could restrain
+him.  He was polite; obsequiously so, and cautiously guarded in his
+gallantries; so that I had no cause for resorting to the _desafio_.  I
+could only wait and watch.
+
+"The vigil was not a protracted one; though, alas! it ended differently
+from what I expected.  About two months after his coming under my
+command, the late _grito_ was proclaimed all over Mexico.  One morning
+as I went down to the military quarters I found confusion and
+disturbance.  The soldiers were under arms, many of them drunk, and
+vociferating `_Viva Santa Anna!  Viva el Coronel Uraga_!'  Hearing this,
+I at once comprehended all.  It was a _pronunciamento_.  I drew my
+sword, thinking to stem the tide of treason; and called around me such
+of my followers as were still faithful.  It was too late.  The poison
+had spread throughout the whole command.  My adherents were soon
+overpowered, several of them killed; myself wounded, dragged to the
+_carcel_, and there locked up.  The wonder is that I was not executed on
+the spot; since I know Gil Uraga thirsted for my life.  He was only
+restrained, however, by a bit of caution; for, although I was not put to
+death on that day, he intended I should never see the sun rise upon
+another.  In this he was disappointed, and I escaped.
+
+"I know you will be impatient to learn how," resumes the refugee, after
+rolling and igniting a fresh cigarrito.  "It is somewhat of an incident,
+and might serve the writer of a romance.  I owe my life, my liberty,
+and, what is more, my sister's safety, to our good friend Don Prospero.
+In his capacity of military surgeon he was not compromised like the rest
+of us; and after the revolt in the cuartel he was left free to follow
+his vocation.  While seeking permission to dress the wound I had
+received, chance conducted him to a place where he could overhear a
+conversation that was being carried on between Uraga and one of his
+lieutenants--a ruffian named Roblez, fit associate for his superior.
+They were in high glee over what had happened, carousing, and in their
+cups not very cautious of what they said.  Don Prospero heard enough to
+make him acquainted with their scheme, so diabolical you will scarcely
+give credence to it.  I was to be made away with in the night--carried
+up to the mountains, and there murdered!  With no traces left, it would
+be supposed that I had made my escape from the prison.  And the good
+doctor heard other designs equally atrocious.  What the demons
+afterwards intended doing when my sister should be left unprotected--"
+
+Something like a groan escapes from the listener's lips, while his
+fingers move nervously, as if clutching at a weapon.
+
+"Devoted to me, Don Prospero at once resolved upon a course of action.
+There was not a moment to be lost.  He obtained permission to attend me
+professionally in the prison.  It was a cheap grace on Uraga's part,
+considering his ulterior design.  An attendant, a sort of hospital
+assistant, was allowed to accompany the doctor to the cell, carrying his
+lints, drugs, and instruments.  Fortunately, I had not been quite
+stripped by the ruffians who had imprisoned me, and in my own purse,
+along with that of Don Prospero, was a considerable sum of gold--enough
+for tempting the attendant to change clothes and places with me.  He was
+the more ready to do so, relying upon a story he intended to tell--that
+we had overpowered and compelled him.  Poor fellow!  As we afterwards
+learnt, it did not save him.  He was shot the next morning to appease
+the chagrin of Uraga, furious at our escape.  We cannot help feeling
+regret for his fate; but, under the circumstances, what else could have
+been done?
+
+"We stepped forth from the _carcel_, the doctor leading the way, and I,
+his assistant, bearing the paraphernalia after him.  We passed out of
+the barracks unchallenged.  Fortunately, the night was a dark one, and
+the guards were given to carousing.  The sentries were all intoxicated.
+
+"By stealth, and in silence, we hastened on to my house, where I found
+Adela, as you may suppose, in a state of agonised distress.  But there
+was no time for words--not even of explanation.  With two of my servants
+whom I could trust, we hastily collected some of our animals--horses and
+pack-mules.  The latter we loaded with such things as we could think of
+as being requisite for a journey.  We intended it to be a long one--all
+the way across the great prairies.  I knew there would be no safety for
+us within the limits of New Mexico; and I remembered what you had said
+but a few months before--your kind proffer of hospitality, should it
+ever be my fate to seek refuge in your country.  And to seek it we set
+forth, leaving my house untenanted, or only in charge of the remaining
+domestics, from whom gold had gained a promise not to betray us.  The
+doctor, Adela and myself, the two peons who had volunteered to accompany
+us, with the girl, Conchita, composed our travelling party.  I knew we
+dared not take the route usually travelled.  We should be followed by
+hostile pursuers and forced back, perhaps slain upon the spot.  I at
+least would have had a short shrift.  Knowing this, we made direct for
+the mountains, with whose passes I was familiar, having traversed them
+in pursuit of the savages.
+
+"We passed safely through the Sierra, and kept on towards the Rio Pecos.
+Beyond this river all was unknown to us.  We only knew that there lay
+the Llano Estacado, invested with mysterious terrors--the theme of our
+childhood's fears--a vast stretch of desert, uninhabited, or only by
+savages seeking scalps, by wild beasts ravening for blood, by hideous
+reptiles--serpents breathing poison.  But what were all these dangers to
+that we were leaving behind?  Nothing, and this thought inspired us to
+proceed.
+
+"We crossed the Pecos and entered upon the sterile plain.  We knew not
+how far it extended; only that on the other side lay a fertile country
+through which we might penetrate to the frontier settlements of your
+great free nation.  This was the beacon of our hopes, the goal of
+safety.
+
+"We travelled in an easterly course; but there were days when the sun
+was obscured by clouds; and then, unguided, we had either to remain at
+rest or run the chance of getting strayed.
+
+"We toiled on, growing weak for want of food, and suffering terribly
+from thirst.  No water was to be found anywhere--not a drop.
+
+"Our animals suffered as ourselves.  Staggering under the weight of
+their loads, one by one they gave out, dropping down upon the desert
+plain.  Only one held out bravely to the last--the mustang mare that
+brought you to our present abode.  Yes, Lolita survived to carry my dear
+sister, as if she understood the value we all placed upon her precious
+burden.  The others gave out--first the horses ridden by Don Prospero
+and myself, then the pack-mules.  Fortunately, these fell near the spot
+where we at length found relief--near enough for their loads, and two of
+themselves, to be afterwards recovered.
+
+"One day, as we toiled on afoot, in the hourly expectation of death, we
+came in sight of this fair spot.  It appeared to us a Paradise, as you
+say it did to yourself.  Under our eyes were green trees and the gleam
+of crystal streams; in our ears the songs of birds we had never expected
+to hear again.  Chance had brought us direct to the path, the only one
+by which the valley can be reached from the upper plain.  Inspirited by
+the fair spectacle below, we gained strength enough to descend.  We
+drank of the sweet water, and procured food from the branches of the
+trees that shaded it.  It was the season when fruits and berries were
+abundant.  Afterwards we discovered game, and were successful in
+capturing it.
+
+"Soon with restored strength we were able to go back, and recover the
+paraphernalia we had left upon the plain, along with two of the mules
+that, after resting, had regained their feet, and could stagger on a
+little farther.
+
+"At first we only thought of making this a temporary resting-place;
+though there seemed but slight hope of being able to continue our
+journey.  But as the days passed, and we were left undisturbed, we began
+to realise the fact that we had found an asylum, safe as pleasant.
+
+"It was not likely that anyone would discover the track we had taken in
+our flight.  Even the resentment of Uraga would scarce pursue us across
+the Staked Plain.  In any case, there was no help for it but to remain
+in the valley, as we had not animals enough to carry us on.  Our only
+alternative was to go back to the Del Norte--a thing not to be thought
+of.  We resolved, therefore, on staying, at least for a time.  I had
+conceived a plan for communicating with my friends in New Mexico, and am
+not without hope that sooner or later we may get tidings that will make
+it safe for as to return.  In our country, as you know, there is nothing
+permanent; and we have hopes ere long to see the Liberal party once more
+in the ascendant.
+
+"Our resolution to remain here becoming fixed we sot about making our
+situation as comfortable as circumstances would permit.  We erected this
+humble tenement whose roof now shelters us.  We turned fishermen and
+hunters; in the last my sister proving more accomplished than any of
+us--a real huntress, as you have seen.  We have enjoyed the life
+amazingly; more especially our worthy _medico_, who is an enthusiastic
+naturalist, and here finds a rare opportunity of gratifying his
+scientific tastes.  For subsistence we have not had to depend altogether
+upon the chase.  Manuel, one of our peons, an old muleteer, makes an
+occasional trip to Albuquerque, the route of which he has good reason to
+remember.  I send him with messages, and to purchase provisions.  He is
+cautious to make his approaches under cover of night, and do his
+marketing with circumspection.  With our gold, not yet all gone, he is
+enabled to bring back such commodities as we stand in need of; while a
+friend, entrusted with the secret of our hiding-place, keeps us informed
+of the _novedades_.  Now you know all."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.
+
+THE INTERCEPTED LETTER.
+
+Colonel Miranda, having told the tale of his perilous escape, for a time
+remains silent and reflective.  So does his listener.  Both are thinking
+on the same subject--the villainy of Gil Uraga.
+
+Hamersley first breaks silence, asking the question,--
+
+"Did you get my letter?"
+
+"What letter?"
+
+"I wrote you only one.  Now I think of it, you could not have received
+it.  No.  By the time it would reach Albuquerque, you must have been
+gone from there."
+
+"I got no letter from you, Don Francisco.  You say you sent one.  What
+was the nature of its contents?"
+
+"Nothing of any importance.  Merely to say that I was coming back to New
+Mexico, and hoped to find you in good health."
+
+"Did it particularise the time you expected to reach Albuquerque?"
+
+"Yes; as far as I could fix that, if I remember rightly, it did."
+
+"And the route you were to take?"
+
+"That too.  When I wrote the letter I intended to make trial of a new
+trail lately discovered--up the Canadian, and touching the northern end
+of the Staked Plain.  I did make trial of it, alas! with lamentable
+result.  But why do you ask these questions, Colonel Miranda?"
+
+The colonel does not make immediate answer.  He appears more meditative
+than ever, as though some question has come before his mind calling for
+deliberate examination.
+
+While he is thus occupied the ex-Ranger enters the room and sits down
+beside them.  Walt is welcome.  Indeed, Don Valerian had already
+designed calling him into their counsel.  For an idea has occurred to
+the Mexican Colonel requiring the joint consideration of all three.
+Turning to the other two, he says,--
+
+"I've been thinking a good deal about the attack on your caravan.  The
+more I reflect on it the more I am led to believe that some of the
+Indians who plundered you were painted."
+
+"They were all painted," is the reply of the young prairie merchant.
+
+"True, Don Francisco; but that isn't what I mean."
+
+"I reckon I knows what ye mean," interposes the ex-Ranger, rising
+excitedly from his chair on hearing the Mexican's remark.  "It's been my
+own suspeeshun all along.  You know what I tolt ye, Frank?"
+
+Hamersley looks interrogatively at his old comrade.
+
+"Did I not say," continues Wilder, "that I seed two men 'mong the Injuns
+wi' ha'r upon thar faces?  They wa'n't Injuns; they war whites.  A'n't
+that what ye mean, Kurnel Meoranda?"
+
+"_Precisamente_!" is the colonel's reply.
+
+The other two wait for him to continue on with the explanation Wilder
+has already surmised.  Even the young prairie merchant--less experienced
+in Mexican ways and wickedness, in infamy so incredible--begins to have
+a glimmering of the truth.
+
+Seemingly weighing his words, Miranda proceeds,--
+
+"No doubt it was a band of Comanche Indians that destroyed your caravan
+and killed your comrades.  But I have as little doubt of there being
+white men among them--one at least, and that one he who planned and
+instigated the deed."
+
+"Who, Colonel Miranda?" is the quick interrogatory of the Kentuckian,
+while with flashing eyes and lips apart he breathlessly awaits the
+answer.  For all, he does not much need it; the name to be pronounced is
+on the tip of his own tongue.
+
+It is again "Gil Uraga!"
+
+"Yes," replies the Mexican, with added emphasis.  "He is, undoubtedly,
+the robber who despoiled you.  Though done in the guise of an Indian
+onslaught, with real Indians as his assistants, he has been their
+instructor--their leader.  I see it all now clear as sunlight.  He got
+your letter, which you say was addressed to me as colonel commanding at
+Albuquerque.  As a matter of course, he opened it.  It told him when and
+where to meet you; your strength, and the value of your cargo.  The last
+has not been needed as an incentive for him to assail you, Don
+Francisco.  The mark you made upon his cheek was sufficient.  Didn't I
+tell you at the time he would move heaven and earth to have revenge on
+you--on both of us?  He has succeeded; behold his success.  I a refugee,
+robbed of everything; you plundered the same; both ruined men!"
+
+"Not yet!" cries the Kentuckian, starting to his feet.  "Not ruined yet,
+Colonel Miranda.  If the thing be as you say, I shall seek a second
+interview with this scoundrel--this fiend; seek till I obtain it.  And
+then--"
+
+"Hyur's one," interrupts the ex-Ranger, unfolding his gigantic form with
+unusual rapidity, "who'll take part in that sarch.  Yis, Frank, this
+chile's willin' to go wi' ye to the heart o' Mexiko, plum centre; to the
+halls o' the Montyzoomas; reddy to start this minnit."
+
+"If," resumes Hamersley, his coolness contrasting with the excited air
+of his comrade, now roused to a terrible indignation, "if, Colonel
+Miranda, it turns out as you conjecture, that Gil Uraga has taken part
+in the destruction of my waggon-train, or even been instrumental in
+causing it, I shall leave no stone unturned to obtain justice."
+
+"Justice!" exclaims the ex-Ranger, with a deprecatory toss of the head.
+"In case o' this kind we want somethin' beside.  To think o' thirteen
+innercent men attacked without word o' warnin', shot down, stabbed,
+slaughtered, and sculped!  Think o' that; an' don't talk tamely o'
+justice; let's shout loudly for revenge!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.
+
+THE LAND OF THE "LEX TALIONIS."
+
+During the quarter of a century preceding the annexation of New Mexico
+to the United States, that distant province of the Mexican Republic,
+like all the rest of the country, was the scene of constantly recurring
+revolutions.  Every discontented captain, colonel, or general who
+chanced to be in command of a district, there held sway as a dictator;
+so demeaning himself that martial and military rule had become
+established as the living law of the land.  The civic authorities rarely
+possessed more than the semblance of power; and where they did it was
+wielded in the most flagitious manner.  Arbitrary arts were constantly
+committed, under the pretext of patriotism or duty.  No man's life was
+safe who fell under the displeasure of the ruling military chieftain;
+and woman's honour was held in equally slight respect.
+
+In the northern frontier provinces of the republic this irresponsible
+power of the soldiery was peculiarly despotic and harassing.  There, two
+causes contributed to establish and keep it in the ascendency.  One of
+these was the revolutionary condition of the country, which, as
+elsewhere, had become chronic.  The contest between the party of the
+priests and that of the true patriots, begun in the first days of
+Mexico's independence, has been continued ever since; now one, now the
+other, in the ascendant.  The monstrous usurpation of Maximilian,
+supported by Napoleon the Third, and backed by a soldier whom all
+Mexicans term the "Bandit Bazaine," was solely due to the hierarchy;
+while Mexico owes its existing Republican government to the patriot
+party--happily, for the time, triumphant.
+
+The province of New Mexico, notwithstanding its remoteness from the
+nation's capital, was always affected by, and followed, its political
+fortunes.  When the _parti pretre_ was in power at the capital, its
+adherents became the rulers in the distant States for the time being;
+and when the Patriots, or Liberals, gained the upper hand this _role_
+was reversed.
+
+It is but just to say that, whenever the latter were the "ins," things
+for the time went well.  Corruption, though not cured, was to some
+extent checked; and good government would begin to extend itself over
+the land.  But such could only last for a brief period.  The
+monarchical, dictatorial, or imperial party--by whatever name it may be
+known--was always the party of the Church; and this, owning
+three-fourths of the real estate, both in town and country, backed by
+ancient ecclesiastical privileges, and armed with another powerful
+engine--the gross superstition it had been instrumental in fostering--
+was always able to control events; so that no Government, not despotic,
+could stand against it for any great length of time.  For all, freedom
+at intervals triumphed, and the priests became the "outs;" but ever
+potent, and always active, they would soon get up a new "grito" to bring
+about a revolutionary change in the Government.  Sanguinary scenes would
+be enacted--hangings, shooting, garrottings--all the horrors of civil
+war that accompany the bitterest of all spite, the ecclesiastical.
+
+In such an uncertain state of things it was but natural that the
+_militarios_ should feel themselves masters of the situation, and act
+accordingly.
+
+In the northern districts they had yet another pretext for their
+unrestrained exercise of power--in none more than New Mexico.  This
+remote province, lying like an oasis in the midst of uninhabited wilds,
+was surrounded on all sides by tribes of hostile Indians.  There were
+the Navajoes and Apaches on its west, the Comanche and other Apache
+bands on the south and east, the Utahs on its north, and various smaller
+tribes distributed around it.  They were all more or less hostile at one
+time or another: now on terms of an intermittent peace, secured by a
+"palaver" and treaty; this anon to be broken by some act of bad faith,
+leaving their "braves" at liberty once more to betake themselves to the
+war-path.
+
+Of course this condition of things gave the soldiery a fine opportunity
+to maintain their ascendency over the peaceful citizens.  Rabble as
+these soldiers were, and poltroons as they generally proved themselves
+in every encounter with the Indians, they were accustomed to boast of
+being the country's protectors, for this "protection" assumed a sort of
+right to despoil it at their pleasure.
+
+Some few years preceding the American-Mexican war--which, as well known,
+gave New Mexico to the United States--these belligerent swaggerers were
+in the zenith of their arbitrary rule.  Their special pet and protector,
+Santa Anna, was in for a new spell of power, making him absolute
+dictator of Mexico and disposer of the destinies of its people.  At the
+same time, one of his most servile tools and successful imitators was at
+the head of the Provincial Government, having Santa Fe for its capital.
+This man was Manuel Armijo, whose character may be ascertained, by those
+curious to study it, from reading the chronicles of the times,
+especially the records of the prairie merchants, known as the "Santa Fe
+traders."  It will there be learnt that this provincial despot was
+guilty of every act that could disgrace humanity; and that not only did
+he oppress his fellow-citizens with the soldiery placed at his disposal
+to protect them from Indian enemies, but was actually in secret league
+with the savages themselves to aid him in his mulcts and murders!
+Whatever his eye coveted he was sure to obtain, by fair means or foul--
+by open pillage or secret theft--not unfrequently accompanied by
+assassination.  And as with the despot himself, so with his
+subordinates--each in his own town or district wielding irresponsible
+power; all leading lives in imitation of the provincial chieftain, as he
+of him--the great prototype and patron of all--who held dictatorial sway
+in the capital of the country, Don Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna.
+
+A knowledge of this abnormal and changeable condition of Mexican affairs
+will, in some measure, explain why Colonel Miranda so suddenly ceased to
+be commandant of Albuquerque.  Santa Anna's new accession to power
+brought in the _Padres_, turning out the _Patriotas_, many of the latter
+suffering death for their patriotism, while the adherents of the former
+received promotion for their support.
+
+Staunchest among these was the captain of Lancers, Gil Uraga, promoted
+to be colonel as also commandant of the district from which its deposed
+chief so narrowly escaped with his life.
+
+And now this revolutionary usurper is in full authority, his acts
+imitating his master, Armijo, like him in secret league with the
+savages, even consorting with the red pirates of the plains, taking part
+in their murderous marauds, and sharing their plunder.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTY NINE.
+
+PROSPEROUS, BUT NOT HAPPY.
+
+Despite his rapid military promotion and the ill-gotten wealth he has
+acquired, Colonel Gil Uraga is anything but a happy man.  Only at such
+times as he is engaged in some stirring affair of duty or devilry, or
+when under the influence of drink, is he otherwise than wretched.  To
+drinking he has taken habitually, almost continually.  It is not to
+drown conscience; he has none.  The canker-worm that consumes him is not
+remorse, but disappointment in a love affair, coupled with a thirst for
+vengeance.
+
+There are moments when he is truly miserable, his misery reaching its
+keenest whenever he either looks into his mirror or stands before a
+portrait that hangs against the wall of the _sala_.  It is a likeness of
+Adela Miranda; for he has taken possession of the house of his
+predecessor, with all its furniture and pictures, left in their hasty
+retreat, the young lady's portrait as the rest.
+
+The Lancer colonel loves Adela Miranda; and though his love be of a
+coarse, brutal nature, it is strong and intense as that the noblest man
+may feel.
+
+In earlier days he believed there was a chance of his obtaining her
+hand.  Humble birth is no bar in Mexico--land of revolutions--where the
+sergeant or common soldier of to-day may be a lieutenant, captain, or
+colonel to-morrow.  His hopes had been a stimulant to his military
+aspirations; perchance one of the causes that first led him into crime.
+He believed that wealth might bridge over the social distinction between
+himself and her, and in this belief he cared not how it should be
+acquired.  For the rest he was not ill-looking, rather handsome, and
+fairly accomplished.  Like most Mexican _militarios_, he could boast of
+his _bonnes fortunes_, which he often did.
+
+These have become more rare since receiving the sword-thrust from his
+American adversary in the duel at Chihuahua, which not only cost him
+three front teeth, but a hideous scar across the cheek.  The teeth have
+been replaced, but the scar cannot be effaced; it remains a frightful
+cicatrix.  Even his whiskers, let grow to their extremest outcrop, will
+not all conceal it; it is too far forward upon the face.
+
+It was after this unfortunate affair that he made proposal to Adela
+Miranda.  And now he cannot help thinking it had something to do with
+her abrupt and disdainful rejection of him, though the young lady's
+little concealed disgust, coupled with her brother's indignation, had no
+reference to the physical deformity.  But for his blind passion he might
+have perceived this.  Fancying it so, however, it is not strange that he
+goes half frantic, and can be heard giving utterance to fearful oaths
+every time he glances in his looking-glass.
+
+After returning from his secret expedition of murder and pillage, he can
+gaze with more equanimity into the glass.  From the man who caused the
+disfiguration of his visage he has exacted a terrible retribution.  His
+adversary in the Chihuahua duel is now no more.  He has met with a fate
+sufficient to satisfy the most implacable vengeance; and often, both
+sober and in his cups, does Gil Uraga break out into peals of laughter,
+like the glee of a demon, as he reflects on the torture, prolonged and
+horrible, his hated enemy must have endured before life became extinct!
+
+But even all this does not appease his malevolent spirit.  A portion of
+his vengeance is yet unappeased--that due to him who was second in the
+duel.  And if it could be satisfied by the death of Miranda himself,
+then there would still be the other thought to torture him--his thwarted
+love scheme.  The chagrin he suffers from this is stronger than his
+thirst for vengeance.
+
+He is seated in the sala of Miranda's house, which he occupies as his
+official headquarters.  He is alone, his only companion being the bottle
+that stands upon a table beside him--this and a cigar burning between
+his lips.  It is not wine he is drinking, but the whisky of Tequila,
+distilled from the wild maguey.  Wine is too weak to calm his perturbed
+spirit, as he sits surveying the portrait upon the wall.
+
+His eyes have been on it several times; each time, as he takes them off,
+drinking a fresh glass of the mezcal and igniting another cigar.  What
+signifies all his success in villainy?  What is life worth without her?
+He would plunder a church to obtain possession of her--murder his
+dearest friend to get from Adela Miranda one approving smile.
+
+Such are his coarse thoughts as he sits soliloquising, shaping
+conjectures about the banished commandant and his sister.
+
+Where can they have gone to?  In all probability to the United States--
+that asylum of rebels and refugees.  In the territory of New Mexico they
+cannot have stayed.  His spies have searched every nook and corner of
+it, their zeal secured by the promise of large rewards.  He has
+dispatched secret emissaries to the Rio Abajo, and on to the _Provincias
+Internas_.  But no word of Miranda anywhere--no trace can be found
+either of him or his sister.  "_Chingara_!"
+
+As if this exclamatory phrase, sent hissing through his teeth--too foul
+to bear translation--were the name of a man, one at this moment appears
+in the doorway, who, after a gesture of permission to enter, steps
+inside the room.
+
+He is an officer in full uniform--one whom we have met before, though
+not in military costume.  It is Lieutenant Roblez, Uraga's adjutant, as
+also his confederate in crime.
+
+"I'm glad you've come, _ayudante_," says the Colonel, motioning the
+new-comer to a seat.  "I'm feeling a little bit lonely, and I want some
+one to cheer me.  You, Roblez, are just the man for that; you've got
+such a faculty for conversation."
+
+This is ironical; for Roblez is as silent as an owl.
+
+"Sit down and give me your cheerful company," the Colonel adds.  "Have a
+cigar and a _copita_ of this capital stuff; it's the best that Tequila
+produces."
+
+"I've brought other company that may be more cheerful than mine,"
+returns the adjutant, still keeping his feet.
+
+"Ah! some of our fellows from the cuartel?  Bring them in."
+
+"It is not any of the officers, Colonel.  There's only one man, and he's
+a civilian.
+
+"Civilian or soldier, you're free to introduce him.  I hope," he adds,
+in an undertone, "it's one of the _ricos_ of the neighbourhood, who
+won't mind taking an _albur_ at _monte_ or a throw of the dice.  I'm
+just in the vein for a bit of play."
+
+"He I'm going to introduce don't look much like a _rico_.  From what I
+can see of him in the darkness, I should say that the blanket upon his
+shoulders and his sheepskin smallclothes--somewhat dilapidated by the
+way--are about all the property he possesses."
+
+"He's a stranger to you, then?"
+
+"As much as to yourself, as you'll say after seeing him--perhaps more."
+
+"What sort of man is he?"
+
+"For that matter, he can hardly be described as a man.  At least, he's
+not one of the _gent-de-razon_.  He's only an Indian."
+
+"Ha!  Comanche?"
+
+As he utters this interrogatory, Colonel Gil Uraga gives a slight start,
+and looks a little uneasy.  His relations with men of the Indian race
+are of a delicate nature; and, although keen to cultivate their
+acquaintance whenever occasion requires it, he prefers keeping all
+Indians at a distance--more especially Comanches, when he has no
+particular need of their services.  The thought has flashed across his
+mind that the man waiting to be ushered into his presence may be a
+messenger from the Horned Lizard; and with the Tenawa chief he desires
+no further dealings--at least for a time.  Therefore, the belief of its
+being an emissary from his red-skinned confederate somewhat discomposes
+him.
+
+The reply of his subordinate, however, reassures him.
+
+"No, colonel, he's not a Comanche; bears no resemblance to one, only in
+the colour of his skin.  He appears to be a Pueblo; and from his
+tattered costume, I take him to be some poor labourer."
+
+"But what does he want with me?"
+
+"That, colonel, I cannot say; only that he has expressed a very urgent
+desire to speak with you.  I fancy he has something to communicate,
+which might be important for you to hear; else I should not have taken
+the liberty to bring him here."
+
+"You have him at hand?"
+
+"I have.  He is outside in the _patio_.  Shall I usher him in?"
+
+"By all means; there can be no harm in hearing what the fellow has to
+say.  It may be about some threatened invasion of the savages; and as
+protectors of the people, you, ayudante, know it's our duty to do
+whatever we can for warding off such a catastrophe."
+
+The colonel laughs at his sorry jest; the adjutant expressing his
+appreciation of it in a shrug of the shoulders, accompanied by a grim
+smile.
+
+"Bring the brute in!" is the command that followed, succeeded by the
+injunction.
+
+"Stay outside in the court till I send for or call you.  The fellow may
+have something to say intended for only one pair of ears.  Take a glass
+of the _mezcal_, light cigarrito, and amuse yourself as you best may."
+
+The adjutant obeys the first two of these directions; then, stepping out
+of the _sala_, leaves his superior officer alone.
+
+Uraga glances around to assure himself that there are weapons within
+reach.  With a conscience like his, a soul charged with crime, no
+wonder.
+
+His sabre rests against the wall close to his hand, while a pair of
+dragoon pistols, both loaded, lie upon the table.
+
+Satisfied with the proximity of these weapons, he sits upright in his
+chair and tranquilly awaits the entrance of the Indian.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FORTY.
+
+A CONFIDENCE WELL REWARDED.
+
+Only a short interval, a score of seconds elapses, when the door, once
+more opening, admits the expected visitor.  The adjutant, after ushering
+him into the room, withdraws, and commences pacing to and fro in the
+patio.
+
+Colonel Gil Uraga feels very much inclined to laugh as he contemplates
+the new-comer, and reflects on the precautions he has taken.  A poor
+devil of an Indian _peon_, in coarse woollen _tilma_, tanned sheepskin
+trousers reaching only to the knee, bare legs below, _guaraches_ upon
+his feet, and a straw hat upon his head; his long black hail hanging
+unkempt over his shoulders; his mien humble and looks downcast, like all
+of his tribe.  Yet it might be seen that, on occasion, his eyes could
+flash forth a light, indicative of danger--a fierce, fiery light, such
+as may have shone in the orbs of his ancestors when they rallied around
+Guatimozin, and with clubs and stakes beat back the spears and swords of
+their Spanish invaders.
+
+At the entrance of this humble personage, into the splendidly furnished
+apartment, his first act is to pull off his tattered straw hat, and make
+lowly obeisance to the gorgeously attired officer he sees sitting behind
+the table.
+
+Up to this time Uraga has presumed him to be a perfect stranger, but
+when the broad brim of the sombrero no longer casts its shade over his
+face, and his eyelids become elevated through increasing confidence, the
+colonel starts to his feet with an exclamatory speech that tells of
+recognition.
+
+"_Carrambo_!  You are Manuel--mule driver for Don Valerian Miranda?"
+
+"_Si, Senor; a servido de V_ (Yes, Sir; at your Excellency's service),"
+is the reply meekly spoken, and accompanied with a second sweep of the
+straw hat--as gracefully as if given by a Chesterfield.
+
+At sight of this old acquaintance, a world of thought rushes crowding
+through the brain of Gil Uraga--conjectures, mingled with pleasant
+anticipations.
+
+For it comes back to his memory, that at the time of Colonel Miranda's
+escape, some of his domestics went off with him, and he remembers that
+Manuel was one of them.  In the Indian bending so respectfully before
+him he sees, or fancies, the first link of a chain that may enable him
+to trace the fugitives.  Manuel should know something about their
+whereabouts?  And the _ci devant_ mule driver is now in his power for
+any purpose--be it life or death.
+
+There is that in the air and attitude of the Indian which tells him
+there will be no need to resort to compulsory measures.  The information
+he desires can be obtained without, and he determines to seek it by
+adopting the opposite course.
+
+"My poor fellow," he says, "you look distressed--as if you had just come
+from off a toilsome journey.  Here, take a taste of something to
+recuperate your strength; then you can let me know what you've got to
+say.  I presume you've some communication to make to me, as the military
+commandant of the district.  Night or day, I am always ready to give a
+hearing to those who bring information that concerns the welfare of the
+State."
+
+While speaking the colonel has poured out a glass of the distilled
+mezcal juice.  This the peon takes from his hand, and, nothing loth,
+spills the liquor between his two rows of white glittering teeth.
+
+Upon his stomach, late unused to it, the fiery spirit produce! an effect
+almost instantaneous; and the moment after he becomes freely
+communicative--if not so disposed before.  But he has been; therefore
+the disclosures that follow are less due to the alcohol than to a
+passion every whit as inflammatory.  He is acting under the stimulus of
+a revenge, terrible and long restrained.
+
+"I've missed you from about here, Manuel," says the colonel, in kindly
+tones, making his approaches with skill.  "Where have you been all this
+while, my good man?"
+
+"With my master," is the peon's reply.
+
+"Ah, indeed!  I thought your master had gone clear out of the country?"
+
+"Out of the settled part of it only, senor."
+
+"Oh! he is still, then, within Mexican territory!  I am glad to hear
+that.  I was very sorry to think we'd lost such a good citizen and
+patriot as Don Valerian Miranda.  True, he and I differ in our views as
+regards government; but that's nothing, you know, Manuel.  Men may be
+bitter political enemies, yet very good friends.  By-the-way, where is
+the colonel now?"
+
+Despite his apparent stolidity, the Indian is not so stupid as to be
+misled by talk like this.  With a full knowledge of the situation--
+forced upon him by various events--the badinage of the brilliant
+_militario_ does not for a moment blind him.  Circumstances have given
+him enough insight into Uraga's character and position to know that the
+tatter's motives should somewhat resemble his own.  He has long been
+aware that the Lancer colonel is in love with his young mistress, as
+much as he himself with her maid.  Without this knowledge he might not
+have been there--at least, not with so confident an expectation of
+success in the design that has brought him hither.  For design he has,
+deep, deadly, and traitorous.
+
+Despite the influence of the aguardiente, fast loosening his tongue, he
+is yet somewhat cautious in his communications; and not until Uraga
+repeats the question does he make answer to it.  Then comes the
+response, slowly and reluctantly, as if from one of his long-suffering
+race, who has discovered a mine of precious metal, and is being put to
+the torture to "denounce" it.
+
+"Senor coronel," he says, "how much will your excellency give to know
+where my master now is?  I have heard that there's a large bounty
+offered for Don Valerian's head."
+
+"That is an affair that concerns the State.  For myself, I've nothing
+personally to do with it.  Still, as an officer of the Government, it is
+my duty to take what steps I can towards making your master a prisoner.
+I think I may promise a good reward to anyone who, by giving
+information, would enable me to arrest a fugitive rebel and bring him
+before the bar of justice.  Can you do that?"
+
+"Well, your excellency, that will depend.  I'm only a poor man, and need
+money to live upon.  Don Valerian is my master, and if anything were to
+happen to him I should lose my situation.  What am I to do?"
+
+"Oh, you'd easily get another, and better.  A man of your strength-- By
+the way, talking of strength, my good Manuel, you don't seem to have
+quite recovered from your journey, which must have been long and
+fatiguing.  Take another _copita_; you're in need of it; 'twill do you
+good."
+
+Pressure of this sort put upon an Indian, be he _bravo_ or _manso_, is
+rarely resisted.  Nor is it in Manuel's case.  He readily yields to it,
+and tosses off another glass of the aguardiente.
+
+Before the strong alcohol can have fairly filtered down into his stomach
+its fumes ascend to his skull.
+
+The cowed, cautious manner--a marked characteristic of his race--now
+forsakes him; the check-strings of his tongue become relaxed, and, with
+nothing before his mind save his scheme of vengeance, and that of
+securing Conchita, he betrays the whole secret of Colonel Miranda's
+escape--the story of his retreat across the Staked Plain, and his
+residence in the lone valley.
+
+When he further informs Uraga about the two guests who have strayed to
+this solitary spot, and, despite his maudlin talk, minutely describes
+the men, his listener utters a loud cry, accompanied by a gesture of
+such violence as to overturn the table, sending bottle and glasses over
+the floor.
+
+He does not stay to see the damage righted, but with a shout that
+reverberates throughout the whole house, summons his adjutant, and also
+the corporal of his guard.
+
+"_Cabo_!" he cries, addressing himself to the latter in a tone at once
+vociferous and commanding; "take this man to the guard-house!  And see
+you keep him there, so that he may be forthcoming when wanted.  Take
+heed to hold him safe.  If he be missing, you shall be shot ten minutes
+after I receive the report of it.  You have the word of Gil Uraga for
+that."
+
+From the way the corporal makes prisoner the surprised peon, almost
+throttling him, it is evident he does not intend running any risk of
+being shot for letting the latter escape.  The Indian appears suddenly
+sobered by the rough treatment he is receiving.  But he is too much
+astonished to find speech for protest.  Mute, and without offering the
+slightest resistance, he is dragged out through the open doorway, to all
+appearance more dead than alive.
+
+"Come, Roblez!" hails his superior officer, as soon as the door has
+closed behind the guard corporal and his captive, "Drink with me!
+Drink!  First to revenge!  I haven't had it yet, as I'd thought; that
+has all to be gone over again.  But it's sure now--surer than ever.
+After, we shall drink to success in love.  Mine is not hopeless, yet.
+Lost! she is found again--found!  Ah, my darling Adela!" he exclaims,
+staggering towards the portrait, and in tipsy glee contemplating it,
+"you thought to escape me; but no.  No one can get away from Gil Uraga--
+friend, sweetheart, or enemy.  You shall yet be enfolded in these arms;
+if not as my wife, my--_margarita_!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FORTY ONE.
+
+AN EARTHLY PARADISE.
+
+  "Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place,
+  With one fair spirit for my monitor!
+  That I might all forget the human race,
+  And, hating no one, love but only her.
+  Ye elements, in whose ennobling stir
+  I feel myself exalted, can ye not
+  Accord me such a being?  Do I err
+  In deeming such inhabit many a spot--
+  Though with them to converse can rarely be our lot."
+
+Oft during his sojourn in the sequestered valley do these lines occur to
+the young prairie merchant.  And vividly; for, in very truth, he has
+realised the aspiration of the poet.
+
+But, though dwelling in a desert, far different is the scene habitually
+before his eyes.  From the front of the humble chalet that has so
+opportunely afforded him a shelter, seated under the spreading branches
+of a pecan-tree, he can look on a landscape lovely as ever opened to the
+eyes of man--almost as that closed against our first parents when
+expelled from Paradise.  Above he beholds a sapphire sky, scarce ever
+shadowed by a cloud; a sun whose fierce, fervid beams become softened as
+they fall amid the foliage of evergreen oaks; among clustering groves
+that show all the varied tints of verdure, disporting upon green glassy
+glades, and glinting into arbours overshadowed by the sassafras laurel,
+the Osage orange, and the wild China-tree, laced together by a trellis
+of grape vines.  A lake in the centre of this luxurious vegetation,
+placid as sleep itself, only stirred by the webbed feet of waterfowl, or
+the wings of dipping swallows, with above and below a brawling rivulet,
+here and there showing cascades like the tails of white horses, or the
+skirts of ballroom belles floating through waltz or gallopade.
+
+In correspondence with these fair sights are the sounds heard.  By day
+the cooing of doves, the soft tones of the golden oriole, and the lively
+chatter of the red cardinal; by night the booming note of the bull-bat,
+the sonorous call of the trumpeter swan, and that lay far excelling
+all--the clear song of the polyglot thrush, the famed mocking-bird of
+America.
+
+No wonder the invalid, recovering from his illness, after the long dark
+spell that has obscured his intellect, wrapping his soul, as it were, in
+a shroud--no wonder he fancies the scene to be a sort of Paradise,
+worthy of being inhabited by Peris.  One is there he deems fair as Houri
+or Peri, unsurpassed by any ideal of Hindoo or Persian fable--Adela
+Miranda.  In her he beholds beauty of a type striking as rare; not
+common anywhere, and only seen among women in whose veins courses the
+blue blood of Andalusia--a beauty perhaps not in accordance with the
+standard of taste acknowledged in the icy northland.  The _vigolite_
+upon her upper lip might look a little bizarre in an assemblage of Saxon
+dames, just as her sprightly spirit would offend the sentiment of a
+strait-laced Puritanism.
+
+It has no such effect upon Frank Hamersley.  The child of a land above
+all others free from conventionalism, with a nature attuned to the
+picturesque, these peculiarities, while piquing his fancy, have fixed
+his admiration.  Long before leaving his sick couch there has been but
+one world for him--that where dwells Adela Miranda; but one being in
+it--herself.
+
+Surely it was decreed by fate that these two should love one another!
+Surely for them was there a marriage in heaven!  Else why brought
+together in such a strange place and by such a singular chain of
+circumstances?
+
+For himself, Hamersley thinks of this--builds hopes upon it deeming it
+an omen.
+
+Another often occurs to him, also looking like fate.  He remembers that
+portrait on the wall at Albuquerque, and how it had predisposed him in
+favour of the original.  The features of Spano-Mexican type--so unlike
+those he had been accustomed to in his own country--had vividly
+impressed him.  Gazing upon it he had almost felt love for the likeness.
+Then the description of the young girl given by her brother, with the
+incidents that led to friendly relations between him and Colonel
+Miranda, all had contributed to sow the seed of a tender sentiment in
+the heart of the young Kentuckian.  It had not died out.  Neither time
+nor absence had obliterated it.  Far off--even when occupied with the
+pressing claims of business--that portrait-face had often appeared upon
+the retina of his memory, and often also in the visions of dreamland.
+Now that he has looked upon it in reality--sees it in all its blazing
+beauty, surrounded by scenes picturesque as its own expression, amid
+incidents romantic as his fancy could conjure up--now that he knows it
+as the face of her who has saved his life, is it any wonder the slight,
+tender sentiment first kindled by the painted picture should become
+stronger at the sight of the living original?
+
+It has done this--become a passion that pervade his soul, filling his
+whole heart.  All the more from its being the first he has ever felt--
+the first love of his life.  And for this also all the more does he
+tremble as he thinks of the possibility of its being unreciprocated.
+
+He has been calculating the chances in his favour every hour since
+consciousness returned to him.  And from some words heard in that very
+hour has he derived greater pleasure, and draws more hope than from
+aught that has occurred since.  Constantly does he recall that
+soliloquy, speech spoken under the impression that it did not reach his
+ears.
+
+There has been nothing afterwards--neither word nor deed--to give him
+proof he is beloved.  The lady has been a tender nurse--a hostess
+apparently solicitous for the happiness of her guest--nothing more.
+Were the words she had so thoughtlessly spoken unfelt, and without any
+particular meaning?  Or was the speech but an allusion, born from the
+still lingering distemper of his brain?
+
+He yearns to know the truth.  Every hour that he remains ignorant of it,
+he is in torture equalling that of Tantalus.  Yet he fears to ask, lest
+in the answer he may have a painful revelation.
+
+He almost envies Walt Wilder his commonplace love, its easy conquest,
+and somewhat grotesque declaration.  He wishes he could propose with
+like freedom, and receive a similar response.  His comrade's success
+should embolden him; but does not.  There is no parallelism between the
+parties.
+
+Thus he delays seeking the knowledge he most desires to possess, through
+fear it may afflict him.  Not from any lack of opportunity.  Since
+almost all the time is he left alone with her he so worships.  Nothing
+stands in his way--no zealous watchfulness of a brother.  Don Valerian
+neglects every step of fraternal duty--if to take such ever occurred to
+him.  His time is fully occupied in roving around the valley, or making
+more distant excursions, in the companionship of the _ci-devant_ Ranger,
+who narrates to him a strange chapter in the life-lore of the prairies.
+
+When Walt chances to be indoors, he has companion of his own, which
+hinder him from too frequently intruding upon his comrade.  Enough for
+him the company of Conchita.
+
+Hamersley has equally as little to dread the intrusion of Don Prospero.
+Absorbed in his favourite study of Nature, the ex-army surgeon passes
+most of his hours in communion with her.  More than half the day is he
+out of doors, chasing lizards into their crevices among the rocks,
+impaling insects on the spikes of the wild maguey plant, or plucking
+such flowers as seem new to the classified list of the botanist.  In
+these tranquil pursuits he is perhaps happier than all around--even
+those whose hearts throb with that supreme passion, full of sweetness,
+but too often bringing bitterness.
+
+So ever near the shrine of his adoration, having it all to himself,
+Hamersley worships on, but in silence.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FORTY TWO.
+
+A DANGEROUS DESIGN.
+
+At length the day, the hour, is at hand when the young Kentuckian
+purposes taking departure.  He does not anticipate this with pleasure.
+On the contrary, the prospect gives him pain.  In that sequestered spot
+he could linger long--for ever, if Adela Miranda were to be with him.
+He is leaving it with reluctance, and would stay longer now, but that he
+is stirred by a sense of duty.  He has to seek justice for the
+assassination of his teamsters, and, if possible, punish their
+assassins.  To obtain this he intends going on to the Del Norte--if need
+be, to Albuquerque itself.  The information given by the ex-commandant,
+with all the suspicious circumstances attending, have determined him how
+to act.  He intends calling Uraga to account; but not by the honourable
+action of a duel, but in a court of justice, if such can be found in New
+Mexico.
+
+"If it turns out as we have been conjecturing," he says, in conversation
+with Miranda, "I shall seek the scoundrel in his own stronghold.  If he
+be not there, I shall follow him elsewhere--ay, all over Mexico."
+
+"Hyar's one'll be wi' ye in that chase," cries the ex-Ranger, coming up
+at the moment.  "Yis, Frank, go wi' ye to the heart o' Mexiko, plum
+centre; to the halls o' the Montezoomas, if ye like, enywhar to be in at
+the death o' a skunk like that."
+
+"Surely, Colonel Miranda," continues Hamersley, gratified, though not
+carried away by his old comrade's enthusiastic offer of assistance,
+"surely there is law in your land sufficient to give redress for such an
+outrage as that."
+
+"My dear Don Francisco," replies the Mexican, tranquilly twirling a
+cigarrito between his fingers, "there is law for those who have the
+power and money to obtain it.  In New Mexico, as you must yourself know,
+might makes right; and never more than at this present time.  Don Manuel
+Armijo is once more the governor of my unfortunate fatherland.  When I
+tell you that he rose to his present position by just such a crime as
+that we've been speaking of, you may then understand the sort of law
+administered under his rule.  Manuel Armijo was a shepherd, employed on
+one occasion to drive a flock of thirty thousand sheep--the property of
+his employer, the Senor Chavez--to the market Chihuahua.  While crossing
+the Jornado del Muerte, he and one or two confederates, whom he had put
+up to his plan, disguised themselves as Apache Indians, attacked their
+fellow sheep-drivers, murdered them, and made themselves masters of the
+flock.  Then pulling the plumes from their heads, and washing the paint
+off their faces, they drove their muttons to a different market, sold
+them, and returned to Chavez to tell a tale of Indian spoliation, and
+how they themselves had just escaped with their scalps.  This is the
+true history of General Don Manuel Armijo, Governor of New Mexico; at
+least that of his first beginnings.  With such and many similar deeds
+since, is it likely he would look with any other than a lenient eye on
+the doings of Gil Urago, his imitator?  No, senor, not even if you could
+prove the present commandant of Albuquerque, in full, open court, to
+have been the individual who robbed yourself and murdered your men."
+
+"I shall try, for all that," rejoins Hamersley, his heart wrung with
+sorrow at the remembrance of his slaughtered comrades, and bursting with
+the bitter thought of justice thus likely to be obstructed.  "Don't
+suppose Colonel Miranda, that I intend resting my cause on the clemency
+of Don Manuel Armijo, or any chance of right to be expected at his
+hands.  There's a wide stretch of desert between the United States and
+Mexico, but not wide enough to hinder the American eagle from flapping
+its wings across, and giving protection to all who have a right to claim
+it, even to a poor prairie trader.  A thousand thanks, Colonel Miranda.
+I owe you that for twice saving my life, and now for setting me on the
+track of him who has twice endangered it.  No use your trying to
+dissuade me.  I shall go in search of this _forban_ direct to the valley
+of the Del Norte.  Don't fear that I shall fail in obtaining justice,
+whatever Don Manuel Armijo may do to defeat it."
+
+"Well, if you are determined I shall not hold out against you.  Only I
+fear your errand may be fruitless, if not worse.  The two mules are at
+your service, and you can leave them at a place I shall indicate.  When
+Manuel returns I shall send him to bring them back."
+
+"Possibly I may bring them myself.  I do not intend making stay in New
+Mexico; only long enough to communicate with the American Consul at
+Santa Fe, and take some preliminary steps for the end in view.  Then I
+shall return to the--States to lay the whole affair before our
+Government."
+
+"And you think of coming this way?"
+
+"Walt, here, has been making explorations down the stream that runs
+through this valley; he has no doubt about its being one of the heads of
+the Red River of Louisiana, if not the Texan Brazos.  By keeping down it
+we can reach the frontier settlements of Texas, then on to the States."
+
+"I'm glad you intend returning this way.  It will give us the pleasure
+of soon again seeing you."
+
+"Colonel Miranda," rejoins Hamersley, in a tone that tells of something
+on his mind, a proposition he would make to his host, and feels delicacy
+in declaring it, "in coming back by the Llano Estacado I have another
+object in view besides the idea of a direct route."
+
+"What other object, _amago mio_?"
+
+"The hope of inducing you to accompany me to the States--you and yours."
+
+"Senor Don Francisco, 'tis exceedingly kind of you.  But the period of
+our banishment may not be long.  I've had late news from our friends,
+telling me things are taking a turn and the political wheel must soon
+make another revolution, the present party going below.  Then I get back
+to my country, returning triumphant.  Meanwhile we are happy enough
+here, and I think safe."
+
+"In the last I disagree with you.  I'm sorry to say, but have reasons.
+Now that I know the real character of this ruffian Uraga--his deeds
+actually done, and others we suspect--he's just the man who'll leave no
+stone unturned to discover your hiding place.  He has more than one
+motive for doing so, but one that will move him to follow you here into
+the desert--aye, to the uttermost end of the earth!"
+
+The motive in the speaker's mind is Uraga's desire to possess Adela.
+
+After a pause, this though: passing him, he adds,--
+
+"No, Don Valerian, you are not safe here."
+
+Then, continuing,--
+
+"How know you that your servant Manuel has not been recognised while
+executing some of those errands on which you've sent him; or that the
+man himself may not turn traitor?  I confess, from what I've seen of the
+fellow, he has not favourably impressed me."
+
+The words make an impression upon Miranda anything but pleasant.  It is
+not the first time for him to have the thought suggested by them.  More
+than once has he entertained suspicions about the peon's fidelity.  It
+is possible the man might prove traitor; if not then, at some future
+time--aye, and probable, too, considering the reward offered for the
+exile's head.
+
+Miranda, knowing and now thinking of it, admits the justice of his
+friend's fear.  More; he sees cause for raising alarm.  So does Don
+Prospero, who, at the moment coming up, takes part in the conference.
+
+It ends in the refugees resolving to stay in the valley till Hamersley
+and Walt can return to them; then to forsake that asylum, no longer
+deemed safe, and retire to one certainly so--the land over which waves a
+flag powerful to protect its citizens and give the same to their
+friends--the Star-spangled Banner.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FORTY THREE.
+
+THE LAST APPEAL.
+
+"I have news for you, _nina_."
+
+It is Colonel Miranda speaking to his sister, shortly after the
+conversation reported.
+
+"What news, Valerian?"
+
+"Well, there are two sorts of them."
+
+"Both good, I hope."
+
+"Not altogether; one will be pleasant to you, the other, perhaps, a
+little painful."
+
+"In that case they should neutralise one another; anyhow, let me hear
+them."
+
+"I shall tell the pleasant ones first.  We shall soon have an
+opportunity of leaving this lonely place."
+
+"Do you call that good news?  I rather think it the reverse.  What will
+the bad be?"
+
+"But, dear Adela, our life here, away from all society, has been a harsh
+experience--to you a terrible one."
+
+"In that, _hermano mio_, you're mistaken.  You know I don't care a straw
+for what the world calls society--never did.  I prefer being free from
+its stupid restraints and silly conventionalities.  Give me Nature for
+my companion--ay, in her wildest scenes and most surly moods."
+
+"Surely you've had both to a surfeit."
+
+"Nothing of the kind; I'm not tired of Nature yet.  I have never been
+happier than in this wilderness home.  How different from my convent
+school--my prison, I should rather call it!  Oh, it is charming! and if
+I were to have my way, it should never come to an end.  But why do you
+talk of leaving this place?  Do you suppose the troubles are over, and
+we can return safely?  I don't wish to go there, brother.  After what
+has happened, I hate New Mexico, and would prefer staying in the Llano
+Estacado."
+
+"I have no thought of going back to New Mexico."
+
+"Where, then, brother?"
+
+"In the very opposite direction--to the United States.  Don Francisco
+advises me to do so; and I have yielded to his counsel."
+
+Adela seems less disposed to offer opposition.  She no longer protests
+against the change of residence.
+
+"Dear sister," he continues, "we cannot do better.  There seems little
+hope of our unfortunate country getting rid of her tyrants--at least,
+for some time to come.  When the day again arrives for our patriots to
+pronounce, I shall know it in time to be with them.  Now, we should only
+think of our safety.  Although I don't wish to alarm you, I've never
+felt it quite safe here.  Who knows, but that Uraga may yet discover our
+hiding-place?  He has his scouts searching in all directions.  Every
+time Manuel makes a visit to the settlements, I have fear of his being
+followed back.  Therefore, I think it will be wiser for us to carry out
+our original design, and go on to the American States."
+
+"Do you intend accompanying Don Francisco?"
+
+She listens eagerly for an answer.
+
+"Yes; but not now.  It will be some time before he can return to us."
+
+"He is going home first, and will then come back?"
+
+"Not home--not to his home."
+
+"Where, then?"
+
+"That is the news I thought might be painful.  He has resolved upon
+going on to our country for reasons already known to you.  We suspect
+Uraga of having been at the head of the red robbers who have plundered
+him and killed his people.  He is determined to find out and punish the
+perpetrators of that foul deed.  It will be difficult; nay, more, there
+will be danger in his attempting it--I've told him so."
+
+"Dear brother, try to dissuade him!"
+
+If Hamersley could but hear the earnest tone in which the appeal is
+spoken it would give him gratification.
+
+"I have tried, but to no purpose.  It is not the loss of his property--
+he is generous, and does not regard it.  His motive is a nobler, a
+holier one.  His comrades have been murdered; he says he will seek the
+assassins and obtain redress, even at the risk of sacrificing his own
+life."
+
+"A hero!  Who could not help loving him?"
+
+Adela does not say this aloud, nor to her brother.  It is a thought,
+silent within the secret recesses of her own heart.
+
+"If you wish," continues the colonel, "I will see him, and again try to
+turn him from this reckless course; though I know there is little hope.
+Stay! a thought strikes me, sister.  Suppose you speak to him.  A
+woman's words are more likely to be listened to; and I know that yours
+will have great weight with him.  He looks upon you as the saviour of
+his life, and may yield to your request."
+
+"If you think so, Valerian--"
+
+"I do.  I see him coming this way.  Remain where you are.  I shall send
+him in to you."
+
+With a heart heaving and surging, Hamersley stands in the presence of
+her, the sole cause of its tumultuous excitement.  For he has been
+summoned thither in a manner that somewhat surprises him.  "Don
+Francisco, my sister wishes a word with you," is the speech of Colonel
+Miranda, an invitation promptly responded to.
+
+What is to be the import of his interview, unexpected, unsought,
+apparently commanded?
+
+He asks himself this question as he proceeds towards the place where she
+stands waiting to receive him.  Coming up to her, he says,--
+
+"Senorita, your brother has told me you wish to speak with me?"
+
+"I do," she replies, without quail in her look or quiver in her voice.
+
+In returning her glance Hamersley feels as if his case is hopeless.
+That very day he had thought of proposing to her.  It almost passes from
+his mind.  So cool, she cannot care for him.  He remains silent, leaving
+her to proceed.
+
+"Senor, it is about your going to the Rio del Norte.  My brother tells
+me such is your intention.  We wish you not to go, Don Francisco.  There
+is danger in your doing it."
+
+"It is my duty."
+
+"In what respect?  Explain yourself!"
+
+"My brave comrades have been slain--assassinated.  I have reason to
+believe that in the town of Albuquerque I may discover their assassins--
+at all events their chief, and perhaps bring him to justice.  I intend
+trying, if it costs me my life."
+
+"Do you reflect what your life is worth?"
+
+"To me not much."
+
+"It may be to others.  You have at home a mother, brothers, and sisters.
+Perhaps one dearer?"
+
+"No--not at home."
+
+"Elsewhere, then?"
+
+He is silent under this searching inquisition.
+
+"Do you think that danger to your life would be unhappiness to her's--
+your death her life's misery?"
+
+"My dishonour should be more, as it would to myself.  It is not
+vengeance I seek against those who have murdered my men, only to bring
+them to justice.  I must do that, or else proclaim myself a poltroon--I
+feel myself one--a self-accusation that would give me a life-long
+remorse.  No, Senorita Adela.  It is kind of you to take an interest in
+my safety.  I already owe you my life; but I cannot permit you to save
+it again, at the sacrifice of honour, of duty, of humanity."
+
+Hamersley fancies himself being coldly judged and counselled with
+indifference.  Could he know the warm, wild admiration struggling in the
+breast of her who counsels him, he would make rejoinder in different
+fashion.
+
+Soon after he talks in an altered tone, and with changed understanding.
+So also does she, hitherto so difficult of comprehension.
+
+"Go!" she cries.  "Go and get redress of your wrongs, justice for your
+fallen comrades; and if you can, the punishment of their assassins.  But
+remember! if it brings death to you, there is one who will not care to
+live after."
+
+"Who?" he asks, springing forward, with heart on fire and eyes aflame.
+"Who?"
+
+He scarce needs to put the question.  It is already answered by the
+emphasis on her last words.
+
+But it is again replied to, this time in a more tranquil tone; the long,
+dark lashes of the speaker veiling her eyes as she pronounces her own
+name,--
+
+"_Adela Miranda_!"
+
+From poverty to riches, from a dungeon to bright daylight, from the
+agonising struggle of drowning to that confident feeling when the feet
+stand firm upon terra firma--all these are sensations of a
+pleasantly-exciting kind.  They are dull in comparison with that
+delirious joy, the lot of the despairing lover on finding that his
+despair has been all a fancy, and that his passion is reciprocated.
+
+Such a joy thrills through Hamersley's breast as he hears the name
+pronounced.  It is like a cabalistic speech, throwing open to him the
+portals of Paradise.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FORTY FOUR.
+
+A MYSTERIOUS MESSAGE.
+
+As is known, Hamersley's suspicions about the treachery of the peon are
+not without cause.  On the contrary, they might seem second-sight.  For,
+almost at the moment he is communicating them to Colonel Miranda, the
+native is telling his tale to Uraga.
+
+Nor does the latter lose much time in acting upon the information
+gained--only that short interlude given to exultation as he stepped up
+to the portrait of Adela Miranda, and stood triumphantly regarding the
+likeness of her he now looks upon as sure to be his.  He has no hope to
+get possession of her by fair means; foul are alone in his thoughts.
+
+After delivering his half-frenzied apostrophe to the painted image, he
+returns to the table, beside which Roblez has already taken a seat.
+
+They re-fill their glasses, and drink the toasts specified, with a
+ceremony in strange contrast to the hellish glee sparkling in the eyes
+of the Lancer-Colonel.  His countenance beams with triumph, such as
+might be shown by Satan over the ruin of innocence.  For he now feels
+sure of his victims--alike that of his love as well as those of his
+revenge.
+
+Not long does he remain over his cups in the company of his subordinate.
+He has an important matter upon his mind which calls for reflection--in
+silence and by himself.
+
+Though often admitting his adjutant to a share in his criminal schemes,
+the participation is only in their profits and the act of execution.
+Despotic even in his villainies, he keeps the planning to himself, for
+he has secrets even Roblez must not know.  And now an idea has dawned
+upon his mind, a purpose he does not care to communicate to the
+subaltern till such time as may be necessary or seem fit to him.  Not
+that he dreads treachery on the part of his fellow freebooter.  They are
+mutually compromised, and long have been; too much to tell tales about
+one another.  Besides, Roblez, though a man of undoubted courage, of the
+coarse, animal kind, has, neverthless, a certain moral dread of his
+commanding officer, and fears to offend him.  He knows Gil Uraga to be
+one whose hostility, once provoked, will stop short at nothing, leave no
+means untried to take retribution--this of a terrible kind.  Hence a
+control which the colonel holds over him beyond that drawn from his
+superior military rank.  Hence, also, his receiving but a small share in
+the proceeds of their various robberies, and his being satisfied with
+this, or, at all events, seeming so.
+
+On his side, Uraga has several motives for not letting his subordinate
+into the knowledge of all his complicated schemes; among them one
+springing from a moral peculiarity.  He is of a strangely-constituted
+nature, secretive to the last degree--a quality or habit in which he
+prides himself.  It is his delight to practice it whenever the
+opportunity offers; just as the thief and detective officer take
+pleasure in their respective callings beyond the mere prize to be
+derived from their exercise.
+
+The intelligence just received from the traitorous mule-driver,
+unexpected as pleasing, has opened to him the prospect of a grand
+success.  It may enable him to strike a _coup_ covering all--alike
+giving gratification to his love, as his hate.
+
+But the blow must needs be dealt deftly.  There are circumstances to be
+considered and precautions taken, not only to prevent its failing, but
+secure against a publicity that might cause scandal to himself, to say
+naught of consequent danger.
+
+And it must be struck soon--at once.  It is too ticklish a matter to
+admit of delay, either in the design or execution.
+
+Already has the matter flitted before his mind in its general outlines;
+almost soon as receiving the report of the peon.
+
+It is only the details that remain for consideration; and these he
+intends considering alone, without any aid from his adjutant.
+
+As time is an object, he speedily terminates his carousal with the
+subaltern; who, dismissed, returns to the military _cuartel_.
+
+Soon as he is gone the colonel again seats himself, and lighting a fresh
+cigar, continues smoking.  For several minutes he remains silent, his
+eyes turned upwards, and his features set in a smile.  One might fancy
+him but watching the smoke of his cigar as it rises in spiral wreaths to
+the ceiling.  He is occupied with no such innocent amusement.  On the
+contrary, his grim smile betokens meditation deep and devilish.  He is
+mentally working out a problem, a nefarious scheme, which will ere long
+bear evil fruit.
+
+As the cigar grows shorter he seems to draw nearer to his conclusions.
+And when at length there is only the stump between his teeth, he spits
+it out; and, taking a hand-bell from the table, rings until a domestic
+appears in the doorway in answer to the summons.
+
+"Call in the guard-corporal!" is the order received by the servant, who
+withdraws without saying a word.
+
+Soon the soldier shows himself, saluting as he enters the door.
+
+"_Cabo_!  Bring your prisoner before me."
+
+The corporal retires, and shortly after returns, having the Indian in
+charge.  He is commanded to leave the latter, and himself remain waiting
+without.  Directed also to close the door; which he does on getting
+outside.
+
+Thus closeted with the peon--still wondering why he has been made a
+prisoner--Uraga submits him to a process of examination, which elicits
+from the scared creature everything he seeds to know.  Among the rest,
+he makes himself acquainted with the situation of the valley, where the
+exiles have found temporary asylum; the direction, distance, and means
+of access to it--in short, its complete topography.
+
+With all the Indian is familiar, can correctly describe it, and does so.
+In that imposing presence he dare not attempt deception, even if
+inclined.  But he is not.  Between questioner and questioned the aim and
+end are similar, if not the same.  Besides, the peon's blood has again
+been warmed up, and his tongue set loose, by a fresh infusion of
+aguardiente--so that his confessions are full as free.  He tells about
+the life led by the Mexican refugees, as also their American guests--all
+he knows, and this is nearly everything.  For trusted, unsuspected, he
+has had every opportunity to learn.  The only thing concealed by him is
+his own love affair with Conchita and its disastrous ending, through the
+intrusion of the Texan Ranger.
+
+This, if told, would give his listener slight concern, alongside the
+grave impressions made upon him by another affair; some particulars of
+which the peon communicates.  These points refer to tender relations
+existing between the young prairie trader and Adela Miranda, almost
+proving their existence.  Confirmed or not, on hearing of them Gil Uraga
+receives a shock which sends the blood rushing in quick current through
+his veins; while upon his countenance comes an expression of such bitter
+malignity, that the traitor, in fear for his own safety, repents having
+told him.
+
+But Uraga has no spite against him--no motive for having it.  On the
+contrary, he intends rewarding him, after he gets out of him certain
+other services for which he is to be retained.
+
+When his cross-questioning is at length brought to a close, he is once
+more committed to the charge of the guard-corporal, with orders to be
+returned to the prison.  At the same time a hint is given him that his
+incarceration is only precautionary, with a promise it will not be for
+long.
+
+Immediately after his removal, Uraga seats himself before an escritoire,
+which stands on one side of the room.  Laying open the lid, he spreads a
+sheet of paper upon it, and commences to write what appears an epistle.
+
+Whatever it is, the composition occupies some considerable time.
+Occasionally he stops using the pen, as though pondering what to put
+down.
+
+When it is at length completed, apparently to his satisfaction, he folds
+the sheet, thrusts a stick of wax into the flame of a candle, and seals
+the document, but without using any seal-stamp.  A small silver coin
+taken from his pocket makes the necessary impression.  There does not
+appear to be any name appended to the epistle, if one it is; and the
+superscription shows only two words, without any address.  The words are
+"El Barbato."
+
+Again ringing the bell, the same servant answers it.
+
+"Go to the stables," commands his master, "or the corral, or wherever he
+may be, and tell Pedrillo I want him.  Be quick about it!"
+
+The man bows and disappears.
+
+"It will take them--how many days to reach the Tenawas' town, and how
+many back to the Pecos?" soliloquises Uraga, pacing the floor, as he
+makes his calculations.  "Three, four, five.  No matter.  If before them
+we can wait till they come.  Pedrillo!"
+
+Pedrillo has put in an appearance.  He is an Indian of the tame sort,
+not greatly differing from the man Manuel, with a countenance quite as
+forbidding.  But we have seen Pedrillo before; since he was one of the
+two muleteers who conducted the _atajo_ transporting the spoil from the
+caravan of the prairie traders.
+
+"Pedrillo," directs the Colonel, "catch a couple of the best roadsters
+in the corral--one for yourself, the other for Jose.  Have them saddled,
+and get yourselves ready for a journey of two weeks, or so.  Make all
+haste with your preparations.  When ready, come here, and report
+yourself."
+
+The muleteer disappears, and Uraga continues to pace the floor,
+apparently yet busied with a mental measurement of time and distance.
+At intervals he stops before the portrait on the wall, and for a second
+or two gazes at it.  This seems to increase his impatience for the man's
+reappearance.
+
+He has not a great while to wait.  The scrip and staff of a New Mexican
+traveller of Pedrillo's kind is of no great bulk or complexity.  It
+takes but a short time to prepare it.  A few _tortillas_ and _frijoles_,
+a head or two of _chile Colorado_, half a dozen onions, and a bunch of
+_tasojo_--jerked beef.  Having collected these comestibles, and filled
+his _xuaje_, or water gourd, Pedrillo reports himself ready for the
+road, or trail, or whatever sort of path, and on whatever errand, it may
+please his master to despatch him.
+
+"You will go straight to the Tenawa town--Horned Lizard's--on the south
+branch of the Goo-al-pah.  You can find your way to the place, Pedrillo.
+You've been there before?"
+
+The Indian nods an affirmative.
+
+"Take this."  Here Uraga hands him the sealed paper.  "See you show it
+to no one you may chance to meet passing out from the settlements.  Give
+it to Barbato, or hand it to the Horned Lizard himself.  He'll know who
+it's for.  You are to ride night and day, as fast as the animals can
+carry you.  When you've delivered it you needn't wait, but come back--
+not here, but to the Alamo.  You know the place--where we met the
+Tenawas some weeks ago.  You will find me there.  _Vaya_!"
+
+On receiving these instructions Pedrillo vanishes from, the room; a
+strange sinister glance in his oblique Indian eyes telling that he knows
+himself to be once more--what he has often been--an emissary of evil.
+
+Uraga takes another turn across the floor, then, seating himself by the
+table, seeks rest for his passion-tossed soul by drinking deep of the
+_mescal_ of Tequila.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FORTY FIVE.
+
+THE STAKED PLAIN.
+
+The elevated table-land known as Llano Estacado is in length over three
+hundred miles, with an average width of sixty or seventy.  It extends
+longitudinally between the former Spanish provinces of New Mexico and
+Texas; their respective capitals, Santa Fe and San Antonia de Bejar,
+being on the opposite side of it.  In the days of vice-royal rule, a
+military road ran across it, connecting the two provincial centres, and
+mule trains of traders passed to and fro between.  As this road was only
+a trail, often obliterated by the drifting sands of the desert, tall
+stakes were set up at intervals to indicate the route.  Hence the name
+"Llano Estacado"--literally, Staked Plain.
+
+In those days Spain was a strong, enterprising nation, and her Mexican
+colonists could travel over most parts of their vast territory without
+fear of being assaulted by the savages.  At a later period, when Spanish
+power began to decline, all this became changed.  Cities fell to ruin,
+settlements were deserted, mission establishments abandoned, and in the
+provinces of Northern Mexico white travellers had to be cautious in
+keeping to the most frequented roads, in some districts not daring even
+to venture beyond the walls of their haciendas or towns.  Many of these
+were fortified against Indian attack, and are so to this day.
+
+Under these circumstances the old Spanish trail across the Staked Plain
+fell into disuse; its landmarks became lost, and of late years only
+expeditions of the United States army have traversed it for purposes of
+exploration.
+
+In physical aspect it bears resemblance to the table lands of Abyssinia
+and Southern Arabia, and at its northern end many outlying spurs and
+detached _mesas_ remind the traveller of the Abyssinian hills--known as
+_ambas_.  A portion of this singular territory belongs to the great
+gypsum formation of the south-western prairies, perhaps the largest in
+the world; while a highly-coloured sandstone of various vivid hues,
+often ferruginous, forms a conspicuous feature in its cliffs.  Along its
+eastern edge these present to the lower champaign of Texas a precipitous
+escarpment several hundred feet sheer, in long stretches, tending with
+an unbroken facade, in other places showing ragged, where cleft by
+canons, through which rush torrents, the heads of numerous Texan
+streams.  Its surface is, for the most part, a dead horizontal level,
+sterile as the Sahara itself, in places smooth and hard as a macadamised
+road.  Towards its southern end there is a group of _medanos_
+(sandhills), covering a tract of several hundred square miles, the sand
+ever drifting about, as with _dunes_ on the seashore.  High up among
+their summits is a lakelet of pure drinking water, though not a drop can
+be found upon the plateau itself for scores of miles around.  Sedge and
+lilies grow by this tarn so singularly situated.
+
+Here and there the plain is indented by deep fissures (_barrancas_),
+apparently the work of water.  Often the traveller comes upon them
+without sign or warning of their proximity, till, standing on the edge
+of a precipitous escarpment, he sees yawning below a chasm sunk several
+hundred feet into the earth.  In its bed may be loose boulders piled in
+chaotic confusion, as if cast there by the hands of Titans; also trunks
+of trees in a fossilised state such as those observed by Darwin on the
+eastern declivity of the Chilian Andres.
+
+Nearly all the streams that head in the Staked Plain cut deep channels
+in their way to the outer world.  These are often impassable, either
+transversely or along their course.  Sometimes, however, their beds are
+worn out into little valleys, or "coves," in which a luxuriant
+vegetation finds shelter and congenial soil.  There flourish the pecan,
+the hackberry, the black walnut, the wild china, with evergreen oaks,
+plums, and clustering grapevines; while in the sterile plain above are
+only seen those forms of the botanical world that truly indicate the
+desert--various species of cactaceae, agaves, and yuccas--the palmilla
+and lechuguilla, dwarf-cedars, and mezquites, artemisia, and the
+strong-smelling larrea, or "creosote plant."
+
+Animals are rare upon the Llano Estacado, although the prong-horn
+antelope--true denizen of the desert--is there found, as also its enemy,
+the Mexican jackal, or coyote.  To the rattlesnake and horned lizard
+(_agama_) it is a congenial home; and the singular snake-bird
+(_paisano_) may frequently be seen running over the arid waste, or
+skulking through the tortuous stems of the nopals.  In the canons of the
+stream the grizzly bear makes his haunt, and in times not long gone by
+it was ascended and traversed by the unwieldy buffalo.  The wild horse
+(_musteno_) still occasionally courses across it.
+
+Of all the living things it is least frequented by man.  Even the Indian
+rarely strays into its solitudes; and the white man, when necessitated
+to enter them, does so with fear and trembling, for he knows there is
+danger.
+
+This is chiefly due to the absence of water; but there is also the
+chance of going astray--getting lost in the absence of landmarks.  To be
+astray in a wilderness of any kind is a perilous predicament for the
+traveller--in one without water it is death.
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+After their affair with the Tenawas, the Texan Rangers directed their
+course towards the Llano Estacado.  On starting, it was their intention
+to strike north, and get upon the main stream of the Canadian, then
+follow it up to the place where the prairie traders met their murderous
+doom.  From the country of the Tenawa Comanches this would be the
+correct route, and was the same taken by these freebooters returning
+with the spoils of the caravan.  But from the mouth of the Pecan Creek
+is one more direct, leading across a spur of the plateau itself, instead
+of turning its north-eastern extremity.
+
+It was not known to the Rangers, though Cully remembered having heard
+something about it.  But the Mexican renegade declared himself familiar
+with, and counselled taking it.  There had been hesitation before
+acceding to his counsel.  Of course, they could have no confidence in
+such a man, but rather suspicion of all he said or did.  In guiding them
+across the Staked Plain he might have some sinister purpose--perhaps
+lead them into a trap.
+
+After all, how could he?  The tribe of savages with which he had been
+consorting was now so terribly chastised, so effectually crushed, it was
+not probable--scarce possible--they would be encountered again.
+Certainly not for a season.  For weeks there would be weeping and
+wailing in the tents of the Tenawas.  If the renegade had any hope of
+being rescued from his present captivity, it could not be by them.  He
+might have some thought of escape, taking the Rangers by the route he
+proposed to them.  On this score they had no apprehension--not the
+slightest.  Suspicious, they would keep close watch upon him; shoot him
+down like a dog at the first sign of his attempting to deceive them.
+And, as Cully remembered having heard of this trail over the Staked
+Plain, it was most probable the Mexican had no other object than to
+bring them to the end of their journey in the shortest time and
+straightest course.  All knew it would be a near cut, and this decided
+them in its favour.
+
+After parting from Pecan Creek, with their faces set westward, they had
+a journey before them anything but easy or pleasant.  On the contrary,
+one of the most difficult and irksome.  For it lay across a sterile
+tract--the great gypsum bed of North-western Texas, on which abut the
+bluffs of the Llano Estacado.  Mile after mile, league after league; no
+"land in sight," to use a prairie-man's phrase--nothing but level plain,
+smooth as a sleeping sea; but, unlike the last, without water--not a
+sheet to cheer their eyes, not a drop to quench the thirst, almost
+choking them.  Only its resemblance, seen in the white mist always
+moving over these arid plains--the deluding, tantalising mirage.  Lakes
+lay before them, their shores garlanded by green trees, their bosoms
+enamelled with islets smiling in all the verdure of spring--always
+before them, ever receding; the trees, as the water, never to be
+reached!
+
+Water they do arrive at more than once--streams rushing in full flow
+across the barren waste.  At sight they ride towards them rapidly.
+Their horses need not to be spurred.  The animals suffer as themselves,
+and rush on with outstretched necks, eager to assuage their thirst.
+They dip their muzzles, plunge in their heads till half-buried, only to
+draw out again and toss them aloft with snorts of disappointment shaking
+the water like spray from their nostrils.  It is salt!
+
+For days they have been thus journeying.  They are wearied, worn down by
+fatigue, hungry; but more than all, tortured by the terrible thirst--
+their horses as themselves.  The animals have become reduced in flesh
+and strength; they look like skeletons staggering on, scarce able to
+carry their riders.
+
+Where is the Mexican conducting them?  He has brought them into a
+desert.  Is the journey to end in their death?  It looks like enough.
+
+Some counsel killing him, and returning on their tracks.  Not all; only
+a minority.  The majority cry "Onward!" with a thought beyond present
+suffering.  They must find the bones of Walt Wilder and bury them!
+Brave men, true men, these Texan Rangers!  Rough in outward appearance,
+often rude in behaviour, they have hearts gentle as children.  Of all
+friends the most faithful, whether it be affection or pure
+_camaraderie_.  In this case a comrade has been killed--cruelly
+murdered, and in a strange manner.  Its very strangeness has maddened
+them the more, while sharpening their desire to have a last look at his
+remains, and give them Christian burial.  Only the fainthearted talk of
+retreating; the others do not think of it, and these are more than the
+majority.
+
+On, therefore, they ride across treeless, grassless tracks; along the
+banks of streams, of whose bitter, saline waters they cannot drink, but
+tantalising themselves and their animals.  On, on!
+
+Their perseverance is at length rewarded.  Before their eyes looms up a
+line of elevated land, apparently the profile of a mountain.
+
+But no; it cannot be that.
+
+Trending horizontally, without curvature, against the sky, they know it
+is not a mountain, but a mesa--a table-land.
+
+It is the Llano Estacado.
+
+Drawing nearer, they get under the shadow of its beetling bluffs.
+
+They see that these are rugged, with promontories projecting far out
+over the plain, forming what Spanish Americans, in their expressive
+phraseology, call _ceja_.
+
+Into an embayment between two of the out-stretching spurs Barbato
+conducts them.
+
+Joyously they ride into it, like ships long storm-tossed entering a
+haven of safety; for at the inner end of the concavity there is a cleft
+in the precipitous wall, reaching from base to summit, out of which
+issues a stream whose waters are sweet!
+
+It is a branch of the Brazos River, along whose banks they have been
+some time travelling, lower down finding its waters bitter as gall.
+That was in its course through the selenite.  Now they have reached the
+sandstone it is clear as crystal, and to them sweeter than champagne.
+
+"Up it lies our way," says the renegade guide, pointing to the portals
+of the canon through which the stream debouched from the table to the
+lower plain.
+
+But for that night the Rangers care hot to travel further.  There is no
+call for haste.  They are _en route_ to bury the bones of a dead man,
+not to rescue one still living.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FORTY SIX.
+
+A BRILLIANT BAND.
+
+Just as the Texan Rangers are approaching the Staked Plain on its
+eastern edge, another body of horsemen, about their equal in number,
+ascends to the same plateau, coming from the very opposite direction--
+the west.
+
+Only in point of numbers, and that both are on horseback, is there any
+similitude between the two troops.  Individually they are unlike as
+human beings could be; for most of those composing the Texan party are
+great, strapping fellows, fair-haired, and of bright complexions;
+whereas they coming in the counter direction are all, or nearly all,
+small men, with black hair and sallow visage--many of them dark as
+Indians.  Between the horses of the two troops there is a proportionate
+disparity in size; the Texans bestriding animals of nearly sixteen hands
+in height, while they approaching from the west are mounted on Mexican
+mustangs, few over fourteen.  One alone at their head, evidently their
+leader, rides a large American horse.  In point of discipline the second
+troop shows superiority.  It is a military organisation _pur sang_, and
+marches in regular formation, while the men composing it are armed and
+uniformed alike.  Their uniform is that of Mexican lancers, very similar
+to the French, their arms the same.  And just such are they; the lancers
+of Colonel Uraga, himself at their head.
+
+Having crossed the Rio Pecos bottom, and climbed up the bluffs to the
+higher bench of the Llano Estacado, they strike out over the sterile
+plain.
+
+As it is early morning, and the air is chilly, they wear their ample
+cavalry cloaks of bright yellow cloth.  These falling back over the
+flanks of their horses, with their square lancer caps, plumed, and
+overtopped by the points of the pennoned lances, give them an imposing
+martial appearance.  Though it is but a detachment of not over fifty
+men--a single troop--riding by twos, the files stretch afar in shining
+array, its sheen all the more brilliant from contrast with the sombre
+sterility of the desert.
+
+A warlike sight, and worthy of admiration, if one knew it to be an
+expedition directed against the red pirates of the plains, _en route_ to
+chastise them for their many crimes--a long list of cruel atrocities
+committed upon the defenceless citizens of Chihuahua and New Mexico.
+But knowing it is not this--cognisant of its true purpose--the
+impression made is altogether different.  Instead of admiration it is
+disgust; and, in place of sending up a prayer for its success, the
+spectator would feel apprehension, or earnestly desire its failure.
+
+Its purpose is anything but praiseworthy.  On the contrary, sinister, as
+may be learnt by listening to the conversation of the two who ride at
+the head of the detachment, some paces in advance of the first file.
+They are its chief and his confidential second, the ruffian Roblez.
+
+Uraga is speaking.
+
+"Won't our worthy friend Miranda be surprised when he sees us riding up
+to the door of his _jacal_, with these fifty fellows behind us?  And the
+old doctor, Don Prospero?  I can fancy his quizzical look through those
+great goggle spectacles he used to wear.  I suppose they are still on
+his nose; but they'll fly off as soon as he sees the pennons of our
+lances."
+
+"Ha! ha! ha!  That will be a comical sight, colonel.  But do you think
+Miranda will make any resistance?"
+
+"Not likely.  I only wish he would."
+
+"Why do you wish that?"
+
+"_Ayadante_! you ask a stupid question.  You ought to have a clearer
+comprehension in the brisk, bright atmosphere of this upland plain.  It
+should make your brain more active."
+
+"Well, _Coronel mio_, you're the first man I ever saw on the way to make
+a prisoner who desired to meet resistance.  _Carrambia_!  I can't
+understand that."
+
+"I don't desire to make any prisoner--at least, not Don Valerian
+Miranda.  For the old doctor, I shan't much care one way or the other.
+Living or dead, he can't do any great harm.  Miranda I'd rather take
+dead."
+
+"Ah! now I think I comprehend you."
+
+"If he show the slightest resistance--raise but a hand--I shall have him
+that way."
+
+"Why can't you anyhow?  Surely you can deal with him as you think
+proper--a refugee, a rebel?"
+
+"There you again show your want of sense.  You've got a thick skull,
+_teniente_; and would be a bad counsellor in any case requiring skilful
+management.  This is one of the kind, and needs the most delicate
+manipulation."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"For several reasons.  Remember, Roblez, we're not now acting with the
+Horned Lizard and his painted freebooters.  Our fellows here have eyes
+in their heads, and tongues behind their teeth.  They might wag the
+latter to our disadvantage if we allowed the former to see anything not
+exactly on the square.  And if we were to shoot or cut down Miranda, he
+not resisting, that would be a scandal I might have difficulty in
+suppressing.  It would spread surely, go over the country, get to the
+ears of the Central Government, and return to New Mexico with a weight
+that might overwhelm me.  Besides, _amigo mio_, it would spoil my plan
+in several respects--notably, that with the nina and others too numerous
+to mention.  Of course, we'll kill him if we can, with fair pretext for
+doing so.  But unless he show fight, we must take him alive, his guests
+along with him.  I hope he will."
+
+"I think it likely you'll have your hopes.  The two Americanos are not
+men to submit tamely.  Remember how they fought at the attack on their
+waggon-train, and how they got off afterwards.  They're a rough couple,
+and likely to give us anything but a smooth reception."
+
+"The rougher the better.  That would be just as wanted, and we'll settle
+everything at once.  If otherwise, I have my plan fixed and complete."
+
+"What is it, colonel?"
+
+"Not now.  I'll tell you in the proper time.  First to make experiment
+of what's immediately before us.  If it succeed, we shall return this
+way with only women as our prisoners.  If it fail, we'll have men--four
+of them.  A word in your ear to content you for the while.  Not one of
+the four will ever enter the prison of Albuquerque."
+
+"You intend sending them to some other?"
+
+"I do."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"A gaol from which there can be no escape--need I name it?"
+
+"You need not.  There's but one will answer your description--the
+grave."
+
+With this solemn conjecture the _sotto voce_ conversation comes to a
+close, the ruffians riding at the head of their troop, far extending
+after, its files resembling the vertebrae of some grand glittering
+serpent on its way to seize a victim, the two in front fair types of its
+protruding poisonous fangs.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN.
+
+A COMING CLOUD.
+
+Between lovers, those who truly love, the parting is ever painful Frank
+Hamersley, taking leave of Adela Miranda, feels this as does Walt Wilder
+separating from Conchita.
+
+There may be a difference in degree, in the intensity of their
+respective passions; perhaps also something in its character.  Still the
+sentiment is the same.  Both suffer at the thought of separation, feel
+it keenly.  All the more as they reflect on what is before them--a
+prospect anything but cheerful.  Clouds in the sky; many chances they
+may never see their loved ones again.  No wonder they turn towards the
+Del Norte with gloom in their glances and dark forebodings in their
+breasts.  Men of less loyal hearts, less prone to the promptings of
+humanity, would trifle and stay; spend longer time in a dalliance so
+surely agreeable, so truly delightful.  Not so the young Kentuckian and
+his older companion, the Texan.  Though the love of woman is enthroned
+in their hearts, each has kept a corner sacred to a sentiment almost as
+strong, and perhaps purer.  The blood of their slaughtered comrades
+cries from the ground, from the sand through which they saw it filtering
+away.  They cannot find peace without responding to its appeal; and for
+this even the fruition of their love is to be delayed.  To seek
+retribution they must journey on to the settlements of the Del Norte;
+not sure of success on arrival there, but more likely to meet failure--
+perhaps imprisonment.  In this there would be nothing new or strange.
+They would not be the first Americans to suffer incarceration without
+cause in a New Mexican _calabozo_, and lie there for long years without
+trial.
+
+Once more Miranda represents the danger they are about to undergo.  It
+does not daunt them.
+
+"No matter," is the reckless response.  "Whatever be the consequences,
+go we will.  We must."
+
+Thus determined to start off, after exchanging tender adieus with those
+left behind--two of them in tears.
+
+According to promise, Miranda has placed his mules at their disposal,
+and on these they are mounted.  He has, moreover, furnished them with
+spare dresses from his wardrobe--costumes of his native country, which
+will enable them to travel through it without attracting attention.
+
+Starting at sunrise, it is still early morning when they reach the upper
+plain through the ravine between the two twin mountains.  So far Colonel
+Miranda accompanies them, as also Don Prospero.  There parting, the
+refugees return to the ranche, while the travellers strike out over the
+treeless waste, which spreads before their faces to the very verge of
+vision.
+
+They have no landmark to guide them, neither rock nor tree; but the sky
+is without a cloud, and there is a sun in it gleaming like a globe of
+fire.  To the experienced prairie man this is sufficient for telling
+every point of the compass, and they but want one.  Their course is due
+west till they strike the Pecos; then along its bank to the crossing,
+thence west again through the Sierras, and on to Santa Fe.
+
+Keeping the sun slightly on the left shoulder, they journey till near
+noon, when a dark object, seen a little to the right, attracts them.
+Not to surprise, for they well know what it is--a grove.  They can tell,
+too, that the trees composing it are oaks, of the species known as
+black-jack.  Notwithstanding their stunted growth, the black-jacks are
+umbrageous, and give good shade.  Though the sun has not yet reached
+meridian, its rays are of meridian heat, and strike down with fiery
+fervour on the surface of the parched plain.
+
+This determines them to seek the shelter of the grove, and there make
+their noontide halt.  It is a little but of their way; but, far as they
+can see ahead, no other spot offers a chance of protection against the
+burning beams.
+
+The grove is a mere copse, covering scarce half an acre, and the topmost
+branches rise but a few feet above their heads.  Still is there shade,
+both for them and their animals; and cover, should they require to
+conceal themselves--the last a fortunate circumstance, as is soon
+proved.  Equally fortunate their not having need to kindle a fire.  In
+their haversacks they carry provisions already cooked.
+
+Dismounting, they lead their males in among the trees, and there make
+them secure by looping the bridles to a branch.  Then, laying themselves
+along the earth, they eat their midday meal, pull out their pipes, and
+follow it with a smoke.
+
+With little thought, they are burning the last bit of tobacco which
+remained to the refugees.  At parting, their generous host, to comfort
+them on their journey, presented them with the ultimate ounce of his
+stock; with true Spanish politeness saying nothing of this.
+
+As they lie watching the blue film curling up among the branches of the
+black-jacks, as little do they reflect how fortunate for them it is not
+the smoke of a fire, nor visible at any great distance.  Were it so,
+there would not be much likelihood of their ever reaching the Del Norte
+or leaving the Llano Estacado alive.
+
+Not dreaming of danger in that desolate place--at least none caused by
+human kind--they remain tranquilly pulling at their pipes, now
+conversing of the past, anon speculating about their plans for the
+future.
+
+Three or four hours elapse; the sun having crossed the meridian, begins
+to stoop lower.  Its rays fall less fervently, and they think of
+continuing their journey.  They have "unhitched" the mules, led them out
+to the edge of the copse, and are standing by the stirrup, ready to
+remount, when an object catches the quick eye of the ex-Ranger, causing
+him to utter a sharp ejaculation.
+
+Something seen west, the way they want to go.
+
+Pointing it out to Hamersley, the two stand observing.  No great
+scrutiny needed to tell them 'tis a cloud of dust, although in breadth
+not bigger than a blanket.  But while they are regarding it it gradually
+spreads out, at the same time showing higher above the surface of the
+plain.
+
+It may be a swirl of the wind acting on the dry sand of the desert--the
+first commencement of a regular whirlwind--a thing common on the table
+lands of New Mexico.  But it has not the round pillar-like form of the
+_molino_, nor do they believe it to be one.  Both are too well
+acquainted with this phenomenon to be deceived by its counterfeit.
+
+If they had any doubts, as they stand gazing these are resolved.  The
+cloud presents a dense dark head, with a nucleus of something more solid
+than dust.  And while guessing at the true character of this opaque
+central part, a circumstance occurs disclosing it.  A puff of wind
+striking the dust causes it to swirl sideways, showing underneath a body
+of mounted men.  Men, too, in military array, marching in double file,
+armed, uniformed, with lances borne erect, their blades glinting in the
+sun.
+
+"Sogers!" exclaims the ex-Ranger.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT.
+
+DREAD CONJECTURES.
+
+It is Wilder who so emphatically proclaims the character of the
+cavalcade.  He has no need, Hamersley having already made it out
+himself.
+
+"Yes; they are soldiers," he rejoins, mechanically, adding, "Mexican, as
+a matter of course.  None of our troops ever stray this fair west.  'Tis
+out of United States territory.  The Texans claim it.  But those are not
+Texans: they are uniformed, and carry lances.  Your old friends, the
+Rangers, don't affect that sort of thing."
+
+"No," responds Wilder, with a contemptuous toss of the head, "I shedn't
+think they did.  We niver tuk to them long sticks; 'bout as much use as
+bean-poles.  In coorse they're Mexikins, _lanzeeros_."
+
+"What can they be doing out here?  There are no Indians on the Staked
+Plain.  If there were, such a small party as that, taking it to be
+Mexican, would not be likely to venture after them."
+
+"Maybe it's only a advance guard, and thar's a bigger body behint.  We
+shell soon see, as they're ridin' deerect this way.  By the 'Tarnal,
+'twon't do to let 'em sight us; leastwise, not till we've seen more o'
+them, an' know what sort they air.  White men tho' they call themselves,
+I'd a'most as soon meet Injuns.  They'd be sure to take us for Texans;
+and 'bout me there'd be no mistake in that.  But they'd treet you the
+same, an' thar treetment ain't like to be civil.  Pull yur mule well
+back among the bushes.  Let's blind the brutes, or they may take it into
+their heads to squeal."
+
+The hybrids are led back into the grove, tied, and _zapadoed_--the last
+operation performed by passing a blanket, mask fashion, over their eyes.
+This done, the two men return to the edge of the copse, keeping
+themselves screened behind the outstanding trees.
+
+In their absence the moving cohort has drawn nearer, and still advances.
+But slowly, and, as when first sighted, enveloped in a cloud of dust.
+Only now and then, as the wind wafts this aside, can be distinguished
+the forms of the individuals composing it.  Then but for an instant, the
+dust again drifting around them.
+
+Still the _nimbus_ draws nigher, and is gradually approaching the spot
+where the travellers had concealed themselves.
+
+At first only surprised at seeing soldiers on the Staked Plain, they
+soon become seriously alarmed.  The troop is advancing towards the
+black-jack grove, apparently intending it for a place of bivouac; if so,
+there will be no chance for them to escape observation.  The soldiers
+will scatter about, and penetrate every part of the copse.  Equally idle
+to attempt flight on their slow-footed animals, pursued by over two
+score of cavalry horses.
+
+They can see no alternative but surrender, submit to be made prisoners,
+and receive such treatment as their captors may think fit to extend to
+them.
+
+While thus despairingly reflecting, they take note of something that
+restores their disturbed equanimity.  It is the direction in which the
+Mexicans are marching.  The cloud moving in slow, stately progress does
+not approach any nearer to the copse.  Evidently the horsemen do not
+design halting there, but will ride past, leaving it on their left.
+
+They are, in truth, passing along the same path from which the
+travellers have late deflected; only in the counter direction.
+
+Now, for the first time, a suspicion occurs to Hamersley, shared by the
+Texan, giving both far greater uneasiness than if the soldiers were
+heading direct towards them.
+
+It is further intensified as a fresh spurt of the desert wind sweeps the
+dust away, displaying in clear light the line of marching horsemen.  No
+question as to their character now.  There they are, with their
+square-peaked corded caps, and plumes of horsehair; their pennoned
+spears sloped over their shoulders; their yellow cloaks folded and
+strapped over the cantles of their saddles; sabres lying along thighs,
+clinking against spurs and stirrups--all the picturesque panoply of
+lancers.
+
+It is not this that strikes dismay into the minds of those who are
+spectators, for it is now struck into their heart of hearts.  On one
+figure of the cavalcade the eyes of both become fixed; he who rides at
+its head.
+
+Their attention had been first attracted to his horse, Wilder gasping
+out, soon as he set eyes on the animal, "Look yonner, Frank!"
+
+"At what?"
+
+"The fellur ridin' foremost.  D'ye see the anymal he's on?  It's the
+same we war obleeged to abandon on takin' to the rocks."
+
+"By heavens! my horse!"
+
+"Yurs, to a sartinty."
+
+"And his rider!  The man I fought with at Chihuahua, the ruffian Uraga!"
+
+On recognising his antagonist in the duel, the Kentuckian gives out a
+groan.  The Texan, too.  For on both the truth flashes in all its
+fulness--all its terrible reality.
+
+It is not the possession of Hamersley's horse, identifying its rider
+with the destroyers of the caravan.  That is nothing new, and scarce
+surprises them.  What pains--agonises them--is the direction in which
+the soldiers are proceeding.
+
+They can have no doubt as to the purpose of the military march, or the
+point to which it is tending.
+
+"Yes," says Walt, "they're strikin' straight fur the valley, goin'
+'ithout guess-work, too.  Thar's a guide along, an' thar's been a
+treetur."
+
+"Who do you think?"
+
+"That Injun, Manoel.  Ye remember he went on a errand 'bout a week ago,
+to fetch them some things that war needed.  Instead, he's made diskivery
+o' the hidin' place o' his master, and sold that master's head.  That's
+what he's did, sure."
+
+"It is," mutters Hamersley, in a tone that tells of affliction too deep
+for speech.  Before his mind is a fearful forecast.  Don Valerian a
+prisoner to Uraga and his ruffians--Don Prospero, too; both to be
+dragged back to Albuquerque and cast into a military prison.  Perhaps
+worse still--tried by court-martial soon as captured, and shot as soon
+as tried.  Nor is this the direst of his previsions.  There is one
+darker--Adela in the company of a ribald crew, surrounded by the brutal
+soldiery, powerless, unprotected--she his own dear one, now his
+betrothed!  Overcome by his emotions he remains for some time silent,
+scarce heeding the remarks of his comrade.  One, however, restores his
+attention.
+
+"I tolt ye so," says Walt.  "See! yonner's the skunk himself astride o'
+a mule at the tail o' the gang."
+
+Hamersley directs his eyes to the rear of the outstretched rank.  There,
+sure enough, is a man on muleback, dressed differently from the
+troopers.  The coarse woollen tilma, and straw hat, he remembers as
+having been worn by one of Mirander's male domestics.  He does not
+identify the man.  But Walt's recollection of his rival is clearer, and
+he has no doubt that he on the mule is Manuel.  Nor, for that matter,
+has Hamersley.  The peon's presence is something to assist in the
+explanation.  It clears up everything.
+
+Hamersley breathes hard as the dark shadows sweep through his soul.  For
+a long time absorbed in thought, he utters scarce an ejaculation.  Only
+after the lancer troop has passed, its rearmost files just clearing the
+alignment of the copse, he gasps out, in a voice husky as that of one in
+the act of being strangled,--
+
+"They're going straight for the place.  O God!"
+
+"Yes," rejoins the ex-Ranger, in a tone like despondent, "Thar boun'
+thar for sartint.  The darned creetur's been tempted by the blood-money
+set on Kumel Miranda's head, an' air too like to git it.  They'll grup
+him, sure; an's like as not gie him the garota.  Poor gentleman!  He air
+the noblest Mexikin I iver sot eyes on, an' desarves a better fate.  As
+for the ole doc, he may get off arter sarvin' a spell in prison, an' the
+saynorita--"
+
+A groan from Hamersley interrupts the remark.  His comrade, perceiving
+how much he is pained, modifies what he meant to say.
+
+"Thar's no need to be so much afeard o' what may happen to her.  She
+ain't goin' to be rubbed out, anyhow; an' if she hasn't no brother to
+purtect her, I reckon she's got a frien' in you, Frank.  An' hyar's
+another o' the same, as they say in the Psalms o' Davit."
+
+Walt's words have a hopeful sound.  Hamersley is cheered by them, but
+replies not.  He only presses the hand of his comrade in silent and
+grateful grasp.
+
+"Yis," continues the ex-Ranger with increased emphasis, "I'd lay down my
+life to save that young lady from harum, as I know you'd lay down yourn.
+An' thet air to say nothin' o' my own gurl.  This chile ain't niver
+been much guv to runnin' arter white wheemen, an' war gen'rally content
+to put up wi' a squaw.  But sech as them!  As for yourn, I don't wonder
+yur heart beats like a chased rabbit's; myen air doin' the same for
+Concheeter.  Wal, niver fear!  Ef thar's a hair o' eyther o' thar heads
+teched, you'll hear the crack o' Walt Wilder's rifle, and see its bullet
+go into the breast o' him as harms 'em.  I don't care who or what he
+air, or whar he be.  Nor I don't care a durn--not the valley of a dried
+buffler-chip--what may come arter--hangin', garrotin', or shootin'.  At
+all risks, them two sweet creeturs air bound to be protected from harum;
+an ef it comes, they shall be reevenged.  I swar that, by the Eturnal!"
+
+"I join you in the oath," pronounces Hamersley, with emphatic fervour,
+once more exchanging a hand-squeeze with his companion.  "Yes, Walt; the
+brave Miranda may be sacrificed--I fear it must be so.  But for his
+sister, there is still a hope that we may save her; and surely heaven
+will help us.  If not, I shall be ready to die.  Ah! death would be
+easier to bear than the loss of Adela!"
+
+"An' for this chile the same, rayther than he shed lose Concheeter."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FORTY NINE.
+
+A CAUTIOUS COMMANDER.
+
+No need saying that the cavalcade seen passing the copse is the lancer
+troop of Colonel Uraga.
+
+Some thirty hours before, they ascended to the Staked Plain, and are now
+nearly across it.  Guided by the traitor, they had no need to grope
+their way, and have made quick time.  In a few hours more they will
+pounce upon the prey for which they have swooped so far.
+
+The two men concealed in the grove expect them to ride on without
+stopping, till out of sight.  Instead, they see them draw up at a few
+miles distance, though all remain mounted.  Two separate from the rest
+keep on a couple of hundred yards ahead, then also halt.
+
+These are Uraga himself, with his adjutant Roblez.
+
+'Tis only a temporary pause to exchange counsel about the plan of
+proceeding--as a falcon expands itself in the air before its last flight
+towards the quarry it has selected.
+
+Before separating from his followers, Uraga has summoned to his side the
+youngest commissioned officer of the troop, saying,--
+
+"Alferes! go back to that Indian!  Send the brute on to the front here."
+
+Manuel is the individual thus coarsely indicated.
+
+Told that he is wanted, the peon spurs his mule forward, and places
+himself by the side of the commanding officer, who has meanwhile
+dismounted.
+
+In the countenance of the Indian there is an expression of conscious
+guilt, such as may appear in that of one not hardened by habitual crime.
+There is even something like compunction for what he is about to do,
+with remorse for what he has already done.  Now that he is drawing near
+the scene, where those betrayed by him must suffer, his reflections are
+anything but pleasant.  Rather are they tinged with regret.  Don
+Valerian Miranda has been an indulgent master to him, and the Dona Adela
+a kind mistress.  On both he is bringing destruction.
+
+And what is to be his reward?  From the time of his betraying them, the
+moment he parted with the secret of their hiding-place, he has lost
+control of it.
+
+He is no longer treated with the slightest respect.  On the contrary, he
+to whom he communicated it behaves to him as conqueror to conquered,
+master to slave, forcing him forward with sword pointed at his breast,
+or pistol aimed at his head.
+
+If a guide, he is no longer looked upon as a voluntary one.  Nor would
+he be this, but for a thought that inspires, while keeping him true to
+his treasonous intent.  When he thinks of Conchita--of that scene in the
+cotton-wood grove--of the Texan kissing her--holding her in his fond
+embrace--when the Indian recalls all this, torturing his soul afresh,
+then no more remorse, not a spark of regret, not a ray of repentance!
+
+No; perish the dueno--the duena too!  Let die the good doctor, if need
+be--all whom his vengeance has devoted!
+
+"Sirrah! are those the two peaks you spoke of?"
+
+It is Uraga who puts this interrogatory, pointing to a pair of twin
+summits seen rising above the horizon to eastward.
+
+"_Si Senor Coronel_; they are the same."
+
+"And you say the path leads down between them?"
+
+"Goes down through a gulch, after keeping round the cliff."
+
+"And there's no other by which the valley may be entered?"
+
+"Your excellency, I did not say that.  There is another entrance, but
+not from the upper plain here.  A stream runs through, and cuts it way
+out beyond.  Following its channel through the _canon_, the place can be
+reached from below; but not after it's been raining.  Then the flood
+fills its bed, and there's no path along the edge.  As it hasn't rained
+lately, the banks will be above water."
+
+"And anyone could pass out below?"
+
+"They could, Senor Coronel."
+
+"We require to observe caution, Roblez," says Uraga, addressing himself
+to the adjutant; "else we may have made our long journey for nothing.
+'Twill never do to enter the cage and find the birds flown.  How far is
+it to the point where the river runs below?"
+
+The question is put to the peon.
+
+"_Cinco leguas, Senor_; not less.  It's a long way to get round, after
+going down the cliff."
+
+"Five leagues there, and five back up the canon of the stream--quite a
+day's journey.  If we send a detachment round 'twill take all of that.
+Shall we do it?"
+
+"I don't think there's the slightest need for wasting so much time,"
+counsels the adjutant.
+
+"But the Indian says any one going down the defile between those hills
+can be seen from the house.  Supposing they should see us, and retreat
+by the opening below?"
+
+"No need to let them see us.  We can stay above till night, then descend
+in the darkness.  As they're not likely to be expecting visitors, there
+should be no great difficulty in approaching this grand mansion
+unannounced.  Let us make our call after the hour of midnight, when,
+doubtless, the fair Adela will be dreaming of--"
+
+"Enough!" exclaims Uraga, a cloud suddenly coming over his countenance,
+as if the words of his subordinate recalled some unpleasant souvenir.
+"We shall do as you say, _ayadante_.  Give orders for the men to
+dismount.  We shall halt here till sunset.  Meanwhile, see that this
+copper-skin is closely kept.  To make safe, you may as well clap the
+manacles on him."
+
+In obedience, Roblez takes the Indian back to the halted troop, directs
+him to be shackled; then gives the order for dismounting.
+
+But not for a night camp, only for a temporary bivouac; and this without
+fires, or even unsaddling of the horses.  The troopers are to stay by
+the stirrup, ready at any moment to remount.
+
+There stay they; no longer in formation, but, as commanded, silent and
+motionless; only such stir as is made by snatching a morsel from their
+haversacks or smoking their corn-husk cigarritos.
+
+Thus till near sundown, when, remounting, they move on.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIFTY.
+
+STALKING THE STALKER!
+
+The spot upon which the lancer troop had halted was less than a league
+from the grove that gave shelter to the two Americans.  In the
+translucent atmosphere of the tableland it looked scarce a mile.  The
+individual forms of troopers could be distinguished, and the two who had
+taken themselves apart.  The taller of these was easily identified as
+the commanding officer of the troop.
+
+"If they'd only keep thar till arter sundown," mutters Wilder,
+"especially him on yur hoss, I ked settle the hul bizness.  This hyar
+gun the doc presented to me air 'bout as good a shootin'-iron as I'd
+care to shet my claws on, an 'most equal to my own ole rifle.  I've gin
+it all sorts o' trials, tharfor I know it's good for plum center at a
+hundred an' fifty paces.  Ef yonner two squattin' out from the rest 'ill
+jest stay thur till the shades o' night gie me a chance o' stealin'
+clost enuf, thar's one o' 'em will never see daylight again."
+
+"Ah!" exclaimed Hamersley, with a sigh of despair, and yet half hopeful,
+"if they would but remain there till night, we might still head them
+into the valley, time enough to get our friends away."
+
+"Don't you have any sech hopes, Frank; thar's no chance o' that I kin
+see what the party air arter.  They've made up thar mind not to 'tempt
+goin' inter the gully till they hev a trifle o' shadder aroun' them.
+They think that ef they're seen afore they git up to the house their
+victims might 'scape 'em.  Tharfor they purpiss approachin' the shanty
+unobserved, and makin' a surround o' it.  That's thar game.  Cunnin' o'
+them, too, for Mexikins."
+
+"Yes, that is what they intend doing--no doubt of it.  Oh, heavens! only
+to think we are so near, and yet cannot give Miranda a word of warning!"
+
+"Can't be helped.  We must put our trust in Him as hes an eye on all o'
+us--same over these desert purairas an' mountains as whar people are
+livin' in large cities.  Sartin we must trust to Him an' let things
+slide a bit, jest as He may direct 'em.  To go out of our kiver now 'ud
+be the same as steppin' inter the heart o' a forest fire.  Them sogers
+air mounted on swift horses, an' 'ud ketch up wi these slow critturs o'
+mules in the shakin' o' goat's tail.  Thurfor, let's lie by till night.
+Tain't fur off now.  Then, ef we see any chance to steal down inter the
+valley, we'll take edvantage o' it."
+
+Hamersley can make no objection to the plan proposed.  He sees no
+alternative but accede to it.  So they remain watching the halted troop,
+regarding every movement with keen scrutiny.
+
+For several hours are they thus occupied, until the sun begins to throw
+elongated shadows over the plain.  Within half an hour of its setting
+the Mexicans again mount their horses and move onwards.
+
+"Jest as I supposed they'd do," said Walt.  "Thar's still all o' ten
+miles atween them and the place.  They've mezyured the time it'll take
+'em to git thur--an hour or so arter sundown.  Thar ain't the shadder o'
+a chance for us to steal ahead o' 'em.  We must stay in this kiver till
+they're clar out o' sight."
+
+And they do stay in it until the receding horsemen, who present the
+appearance of giants under the magnifying twilight mist, gradually grow
+less, and at length fade from view under the thickening darkness.
+
+Not another moment do Hamersley and the hunter remain within the grove,
+but springing to their saddles, push on after the troop.
+
+Night soon descending, with scarce ten minutes of twilight, covers the
+plain with a complete obscurity, as if a shroud of crape had been
+suddenly thrown over it.
+
+There is no moon, not even stars, in the sky; and the twin _buttes_,
+that form the portals of the pass, are no longer discerned.
+
+But the ex-Ranger needs neither moon, nor stars, nor mountain peaks to
+guide him for such a short distance.  Taking his bearings before
+starting from the black-jack copse, he rides on in a course straight as
+the direction of a bullet from his own rifle, until the two mounds loom
+up, their silhouettes seen against the leaden sky.
+
+"We mustn't go any furrer, Frank," he says, suddenly pulling up his
+mule; "leastwise, not a-straddle o' these hyar conspikerous critters.
+Whether the sogers hev goed down inter the valley or no, they're sartin
+to hev left some o' the party ahind, by way o' keepin' century.  Let's
+picket the animals out hyar, an' creep forrad afut.  That'll gie us a
+chance o' seeing in, 'ithout bein' seen."
+
+The mules being disposed of as Walt had suggested, the two continue
+their advance.
+
+First walking erect, then in bent attitude, then crouching still lower,
+then as quadrupeds on all-fours, and at length, crawling like reptiles,
+they make their approach to the pass that leads down into the valley.
+
+They do not enter it; they dare not.  Before getting within the gape of
+its gloomy portals they hear voices issuing therefrom.  They can see
+tiny sparks of fire glowing at the lips of ignited cigars.  From this
+they can tell that there are sentries there--a line of them across the
+ravine, guarding it from side to side.
+
+"It ain't no use tryin', Frank," whispers Wilder; "ne'er a chance o' our
+settin' through.  They're stannin' thick all over the ground.  I kin see
+by thar seegars.  Don't ye hear them palaverin?  A black snake kedn't
+crawl through among 'em 'ithout bein' obsarved."
+
+"What are we to do?" asks Hamersley, in a despairing tone.
+
+"We kin do nothin' now, 'ceptin' go back an' git our mules.  We must
+move them out o' the way afore sun-up.  'Taint no matter o' use our
+squattin' hyar.  No doubt o' what's been done.  The main body's goed
+below; them we see's only a party left to guard the gap.  Guess it's all
+over wi' the poor critters in the cabin, or will be afore we kin do
+anythin' to help 'em.  Ef they ain't kilt, they're captered by this
+time."
+
+Hamersley can scarce restrain himself from uttering an audible groan.
+Only the evident danger keeps him silent.
+
+"I say agin, Frank, 'tair no use our stayin' hyar.  Anythin' we kin do
+must be did elsewhar.  Let's go back for our mules, fetch 'em away, an'
+see ef we kin clomb up one o' these hyar hills.  Thar's a good skirtin'
+o' kiver on thar tops.  Ef the anymals can't be tuk up, we kin leave
+them in some gulch, an' go on to the summut ourselves.  Thar we may
+command a view o' all that passes.  The sogers'll be sartin to kum past
+in the mornin', bringin' thar prisoners.  Then we'll see who's along wi'
+'em, and kin foller thar trail."
+
+"Walt, I'm willing to do as you direct.  I feel as if I'd lost all hope,
+and could give way to downright despair."
+
+"Deespair be durned!  Thar's allers a hope while thar's a bit o' breth
+in the body.  Keep up yur heart, man!  Think o' how we war 'mong them
+wagguns.  That oughter strengthen yur gizzern.  Niver say die till yur
+dead, and the crowner are holdin' his 'quest over yur karkidge.  Thet's
+the doctryne o' Walt Wilder."
+
+As if to give illustrative proof of it, he catches hold of his comrade's
+sleeve; with a pluck turns him around, and leads him back to the place
+where they had parted from the mules.  These are released from their
+pickets, then led silently, and in a circuitous direction, towards the
+base of one of the buttes.
+
+Its sides appear too steep for even a mule to scale them; but a
+boulder-strewed ravine offers a suitable place for secreting the
+animals.
+
+There they are left, their lariats affording sufficient length to make
+them fast to the rocks, while a _tapado_ of the saddle-blankets secures
+them against binneying.
+
+Having thus disposed of the animals, the two men scramble on up the
+ravine, reach the summit of the hill, and sit down among the cedar-scrub
+that crowns it, determined to remain there and await the "development of
+events."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIFTY ONE.
+
+APPROACHING THE PREY.
+
+Were we gifted with clairvoyance, it might at times spare us much
+misery, thought at other times it would make it.  Perhaps 'tis better we
+are as we are.
+
+Were Frank Hamersley and Walt Wilder, keeping watch on the summit of the
+mound, possessed of second sight, they would not think of remaining
+there throughout all the night--not for an hour--nay, not so much as a
+minute, for they would be aware that within less than ten miles of them
+is a party of men with friendly hearts and strong arms, both at their
+disposal for the very purpose they now need such.  Enough of them to
+strike Uraga's lancers and scatter them like chaff.
+
+And could the man commanding these but peep over the precipitous
+escarpment of the Llano Estacado and see those stalwart Texans
+bivouacked below, he would descend into the valley with less
+deliberation, and make greater haste to retire out of it.  He and his
+know nothing of the formidable foes so near, any more than Hamersley and
+Wilder suspect the proximity of such powerful friends.  Both are alike
+unconscious that the Texans are encamped within ten miles.  Yet they
+are; for the gorge at whose mouth they have halted is the outlet of the
+valley stream, where it debouches upon the Texan plain.
+
+Without thought of being interfered with, the former proceed upon their
+ruthless expedition; while the latter have no alternative but await its
+issue.  They do so with spirits impatiently chafing, and hearts sorely
+agonised.
+
+Both are alike apprehensive for what next day's sun will show them--
+perchance a dread spectacle.
+
+Neither shuts eye in sleep.  With nerves excited and bosoms agitated
+they lie awake, counting the hours, the minutes; now and then
+questioning the stars as to the time.
+
+They converse but little, and only in whispers.  The night is profoundly
+still.  The slightest sound, a word uttered above their breath, might
+betray them.
+
+They can distinctly hear the talk of the lancers left below.  Hamersley,
+who understands their tongue, can make out their conversation.  It is
+for the most part ribald and blasphemous, boasts of their _bonnes
+fortunes_ with the damsels of the Del Norte, commingled with curses at
+this ill-starred expedition that for a time separates them from their
+sweethearts.
+
+Among them appears a gleam greater than the ignited tips of their
+cigarittos.  'Tis the light of a candle which they have stuck up over a
+serape spread along the earth.  Several are seen clustering around it;
+while their conversation tells that they are relieving the dull hours
+with a little diversion.  They are engaged in gambling, and ever and
+anon the cries, "_Soto en la puerta_!" "_Cavallo mozo_!" ascending in
+increased monotone, proclaim it to be the never-ending national game of
+monte.
+
+Meanwhile Uraga, with the larger body of the lancers, has got down into
+the glen, and is making way towards the point aimed at.  He proceeds
+slowly and with caution.  This for two distinct reasons--the sloping
+path is difficult even by day, at night requiring all the skill of
+experienced riders to descend it.  Still with the traitor at their head,
+who knows every step, they gradually crawl down the cliff, single file,
+again forming "by twos" as they reach the more practicable causeway
+below.
+
+Along this they continue to advance in silence and like caution.
+Neither the lancer colonel nor his lieutenant has forgotten the terrible
+havoc made among the Tenawas by the two men who survived that fearful
+affray, and whom they may expect once more to meet.  They know that both
+have guns--the traitor has told them so--and that, as before, they will
+make use of them.  Therefore Uraga intends approaching stealthily, and
+taking them by surprise.  Otherwise he may himself be the first to
+fall--a fate he does not wish to contemplate.  But there can be no
+danger, he fancies as he rides forward.  It is now the mid-hour of
+night, a little later, and the party to be surprised will be in their
+beds.  If all goes well he may seize them asleep.
+
+So far everything seems favourable.  No sound comes from the direction
+of the lonely dwelling, not even the bark of a watch dog.  The only
+noises that interrupt the stillness of the night are the lugubrious cry
+of the coyote and the wailing note of the whip-poor-will; these, at
+intervals blending with the sweeter strain of the tzenzontle--the
+Mexican nightingale--intermittently silenced as the marching troop
+passes near the spot where it is perched.
+
+Once more, before coming in sight of the solitary jacal, Uraga commands
+a halt.  This time to reconnoitre, not to rest or stay.  The troopers
+sit in their saddles, with reins ready to be drawn; like a flock of
+vultures about to unfold their wings for the last swoop upon their
+victims--to clutch, tear, kill, do with them as they may wish!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIFTY TWO.
+
+A BLOODLESS CAPTURE.
+
+A house from which agreeable guests have just taken departure is rarely
+cheerful.  The reverse, if these have been very agreeable--especially on
+the first evening after.
+
+The rude sheiling which gives shelter to the refugees is no exception.
+Everyone under its roof is afflicted with low spirits, some of them
+sad--two particularly so.
+
+Thus has it been since the early hour of daybreak, when the guests
+regretted spoke the parting speech.
+
+In the ears of Adela Miranda, all day long, has been ringing that
+painful word, "Adios!" while thoughts about him who uttered it have been
+agitating her bosom.
+
+Not that she has any fear of his fealty, or that he will prove traitor
+to his troth now plighted.  On the contrary, she can confide in him for
+that, and does--fully, trustingly.
+
+Her fears are from a far different cause; the danger he is about to
+dare.
+
+Conchita, in like manner, though in less degree, has her apprehensions.
+The great Colossus who has captured her heart, and been promised her
+hand, may never return to claim it.  But, unacquainted with the risk he
+is going to run, the little mestiza has less to alarm her, and only
+contemplates her lover's absence, with that sense of uncertainty common
+to all who live in a land where every day has its dangers.
+
+Colonel Miranda is discomforted too.  Never before since his arrival in
+the valley have his apprehensions been so keen.  Hamersley's words,
+directing suspicion to the peon, Manuel, have excited them.  All the
+more from his having entertained something of this before.  And now
+still more, that his messenger is three days overdue from the errand on
+which he has sent him.
+
+At noon he and Don Prospero again ascend to the summit of the pass, and
+scan the table plain above--to observe nothing upon it, either
+westwardly or in any other direction.  And all the afternoon has one or
+the other been standing near the door of the jacal, with a lorgnette
+levelled up the ravine through which the valley is entered from above.
+
+Only as the shades of night close over them do they desist from this
+vigil, proving fruitless.
+
+Added to the idea of danger, they have another reason for desiring the
+speedy return of the messenger.  Certain little luxuries he is expected
+to bring--among the rest a skin or two of wine and a few boxes of
+cigars.  For neither the colonel himself nor the ex-army surgeon are
+anchorites, however much they have of late been compelled to the habit.
+Above all, they need tobacco, their stock being out; the last ounce
+given to their late guests on leaving.
+
+These are minor matters, but yet add to the cheerlessness of the time
+after the strangers have gone.  Not less at night, when more than ever
+one feels a craving for the nicotian weed, to consume it in some way--
+pipe, cigar, or cigaritto.
+
+As the circle of three assemble in their little sitting-room, after a
+frugal supper, tobacco is the Colonel's chief care, and becomes the
+first topic of conversation.
+
+"Carramba!" he explains, as if some new idea had entered his head, "I
+couldn't have believed in a man suffering so much from such a trifling
+cause."
+
+"What are you referring to?" interrogates the doctor.
+
+"The thing you're thinking of at this moment, _amigo mio_.  I'll make a
+wager it's the same."
+
+"As you know, colonel, I never bet."
+
+"Nor I upon a certainty, as in this case it would be.  I know what your
+mind's bent upon--tobacco."
+
+"I confess it, colonel.  I want a smoke, bad as ever I did in my life."
+
+"Sol."
+
+"But why don't you both have it, then?"
+
+It is Adela who thus innocently interrogates.
+
+"For the best of all reasons," rejoins her brother.  "We haven't the
+wherewith."
+
+"What! no cigarittos?  I saw some yesterday on one of the shelves."
+
+"But not to day.  At this moment there isn't a pinch of tobacco within
+twenty miles of where we sit, unless our late guests have made a very
+short day's march.  I gave them the last I had to comfort them on the
+journey."
+
+"Yes, senorita," adds the doctor, "and something quite as bad, if not
+worse.  Our bottles are empty.  The wine is out as well as the weed."
+
+"In that," interrupts the Colonel, "I'm happy to say you're mistaken.
+It's not so bad as you think, doctor.  True, the pigskin has collapsed;
+for the throat of the huge Texan was as difficult to saturate as the
+most parched spot on the Staked Plain.  Finding it so, I took occasion
+to abstract a good large gourd, and set it surreptitiously aside.  I did
+that to meet emergencies.  As one seems to have arisen, I think the
+hidden treasure may now be produced."
+
+Saying this, the colonel steps out of the room, soon returning with a
+large calabash bottle.
+
+Conchita is summoned, and directed to bring drinking cups, which she
+does.
+
+Miranda, pouring out the wine says,--
+
+"This will cheer us; and, in truth, we all need cheering.  I fancy
+there's enough to last us till Manuel makes his reappearance with a
+fresh supply.  Strange his not having returned.  He's had time to do all
+his bargainings and been back three days ago.  I hoped to see him home
+before our friends took departure, so that I could better have provided
+them for their journey.  They'll stand a fair chance of being famished."
+
+"No fear of that," puts in Don Prospero.
+
+"Why do you say so, doctor?"
+
+"Because of the rifle I gave to Senor Gualtero.  With it he will be able
+to keep both provisioned.  'Tis marvellous how he can manage it.  He has
+killed bits of birds without spoiling their skins or even ruffling a
+feather.  I'm indebted to him for some of my best specimens.  So long as
+he carries a gun, with ammunition to load it, you need have no fear he
+or his companion will perish from hunger, even on the Llano Estacado."
+
+"About that," rejoins Miranda, "I think we need have no uneasiness.
+Beyond lies the thing to be apprehended--not on the desert, but amid
+cultivated fields, in the streets of towns, in the midst of so-called
+civilisation.  There will be their real danger."
+
+For some time the three are silent, their reflections assuming a sombre
+hue, called forth by the colonel's words.
+
+But the doctor, habitually light-hearted, soon recovers, and makes an
+effort to imbue the others with cheerfulness like his own.
+
+"Senorita," he says, addressing himself to Adela, "your guitar, hanging
+there against the wall, seems straining its strings as if they longed
+for the touch of your fair fingers.  You've been singing every night for
+the last month, delighting us all I hope you won't be silent now that
+your audience is reduced, but will think it all the more reason for
+bestowing your favours on the few that remain."
+
+To the gallant speech of pure Castilian idiom, the young lady answers
+with a smile expressing assent, at the same time taking hold of her
+guitar.  As she reseats herself, and commences tuning the instrument, a
+string snaps.
+
+It seems an evil omen; and so all three regard it, though without
+knowing why.  It is because, like the strings of the instrument, their
+hearts are out of tune, or rather attuned to a presentiment which
+oppresses them.
+
+The broken string is soon remedied by a knot; this easily done.  Not so
+easy to restore the tranquillity of thought disturbed by its breaking.
+
+No more does the melancholy song which succeeds.  Even to that far land
+has travelled the strain of the "Exile of Erin."  Its appropriateness to
+their own circumstances suggesting itself to the Mexican maiden, she
+sings--
+
+  Sad is my fate, said the heart-broken stranger,
+  The wild deer and wolf to the covert can flee,
+  But I have no refuge from famine and danger,
+  A home and a country remain not to me.
+
+"Dear Adela!" interrupts Miranda.  "That song is too sad.  We're already
+afflicted with its spirit.  Change it for one more cheerful.  Give us a
+lay of the Alhambra--a battle-song of the Cid or the Campeador--
+something patriotic and stirring."
+
+Obedient to her brother's request, the young girl changes tune and song,
+now pouring forth one of those inimitable lays for which the language of
+Cervantes is celebrated.
+
+Despite all, the heaviness of heart remains, pressing upon those who
+listen as on her who sings.  Adela's voice appears to have lost its
+accustomed sweetness, while the strings of her guitar seem equally out
+of tune.
+
+All at once, while in the middle of her song, the two bloodhounds, that
+have been lying on the floor at her feet, start from their recumbent
+position, simultaneously giving utterance to a growl, and together rush
+out through the open door.
+
+The singing is instantly brought to an end; while Don Valerian and the
+doctor rise hastily from their chairs.
+
+The bark of watch-dog outside some quiet farmhouse, amidst the homes of
+civilisation, can give no idea of the startling effect which the same
+sound calls forth on the far Indian frontier--nothing like the alarm
+felt by the dwellers in that lone ranche.  To add to it, they hear a
+hoof striking on the stones outside--that of either horse or mule.  It
+cannot be Lolita's; the mustang mare is securely stalled, and the
+hoof-stroke comes not from the stable.  There are no other animals.
+Their late guests have taken away the two saddle mules, while the _mulas
+de carga_ are with the messenger, Manuel.
+
+"It's he come back!" exclaims the doctor.  "We ought to be rejoiced
+instead of scared.  Come, Don Valerian! we shall have our smoke yet
+before going to bed."
+
+"It's not Manuel," answers Miranda.  "The dogs would have known him
+before this.  Hear how they keep on baying!  Ha! what's that?  Chico's
+voice!  Somebody has caught hold of him!"
+
+A cry from the peon outside, succeeded by expostulations, as if he was
+struggling to escape--his voice commingled with shrill screams from
+Conchita--are sounds almost simultaneous.
+
+Don Valerian strides back into the room and lays hold of his sword, the
+doctor clutching at the first weapon that presents itself.
+
+But weapons are of no avail where there are not enough hands to wield
+them.
+
+Into the cabin lead two entrance doors--one front, the other back--and
+into both is seen pouring a stream of armed men, soldiers in uniform.
+
+Before Miranda can disengage his sword from its scabbard, a perfect
+_chevaux-de-frise_ of lance-points are within six inches of his breast,
+while the doctor is similarly menaced.
+
+Both perceive that resistance will be idle.  It can only end in their
+instant impalement.
+
+"Surrender, rebels!" cries a voice rising above the din.
+
+"Drop your weapons, and at once, if you wish your lives spared!
+Soldiers, disarm them!"
+
+Miranda recognises the voice.  Perhaps, had he done so sooner, he would
+have held on to his sword, and taken the chances of a more protracted
+and desperate resistance.
+
+It is too late.  As the weapon is wrested from his grasp, he sees
+standing before him the man of all others he has most reason to fear--
+Gil Uraga!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIFTY THREE.
+
+A SLEEPLESS NIGHT.
+
+All night long Hamersley and the hunter remain upon the summit of the
+mound.  It is a night of dread anxiety, seeming to them an age.
+
+They think not of taking sleep--they could not.  There is that in their
+minds that would keep them wakeful if they had not slept for a week.
+Time passing does not lessen their suspense.  On the contrary, it grows
+keener, becoming an agony almost unendurable.
+
+To escape from it, Hamersley half forms the resolution to descend the
+hill and endeavour to steal past the sentinels.  If discovered, to
+attack them boldly, and attempt cutting a way through; then on into the
+valley, and take such chances as may turn up for the rescue of the
+refugees.
+
+Putting it to his companion, the latter at once offers opposing counsel.
+It would be more than rashness--sheer madness.  At least a dozen
+soldiers have been left on picket at the summit of the pass.  Standing
+or sitting, they are scattered all over the ground.  It would be
+impossible for anyone going down the gorge to get past them unperceived;
+and for two men to attack twelve, however courageous the former and
+cowardly the latter, the odds would be too great.
+
+"I wouldn't mind it for all that," says Walt, concluding his response to
+the rash proposal, "ef thar war nothin' more to be did beyont.  But thar
+is.  Even war we to cut clar through, kill every skunk o' 'em, our work
+'ud be only begun.  Thar's two score to meet us below.  What ked we do
+wi' 'em?  No, Frank; we mout tackle these twelve wi' some sort o'
+chance, but two agin forty!  It's too ugly a odds.  No doubt we ked drop
+a good grist o' 'em afore goin' under, but in the eend they'd git the
+better o' us--kill us to a sartinty."
+
+"It's killing me to stay here.  Only to think what the ruffians may be
+doing at this moment!  Adela--"
+
+"Don't gie yur mind to thinkin' o' things now.  Keep your thoughts for
+what we may do arterward.  Yur Adela ain't goin' to be ate up that
+quick, nor yet my Concheeter.  They'll be tuk away 'long wi' t'others as
+prisoners.  We kin foller, and trust to some chance o' bein' able to git
+'em out o' the clutches o' the scoundrels."
+
+Swayed by his comrade's counsel, somewhat tranquillised by it, Hamersley
+resigns himself to stay as they are.  Calmer reflection convinces him
+there is no help for it.  The alternative, for an instant entertained,
+would be to rush recklessly on death, going into its very jaws.
+
+They lie along the ground listening, now and then standing up and
+peering through the branches at the sentries below.  For a long while
+they hear nothing save the calls of the card-players, thickly
+interlarded with _carajoz, chingaras_, and other blasphemous
+expressions.  But just after the hour of midnight other sounds reach
+their ears, which absorb all their attention, taking it away from the
+gamesters.
+
+Up out of the valley, borne upon the buoyant atmosphere, comes the
+baying of bloodhounds.  In echo it reverberates along the facade of the
+cliff, for a time keeping continuous.  Soon after a human voice, quickly
+followed by a second; these not echoes or repetitions of the same; for
+one is the coarse guttural cry of a man, the other a scream in the
+shrill treble of of a woman.  The first is the shout of surprise uttered
+by Chico, the second the shriek of alarm sent forth by Conchita.
+
+With hearts audibly beating, the listeners bend their ears to catch what
+may come next, both conjecturing the import of the sounds that have
+already reached them, and this with instinctive correctness.  Walt is
+the first to give speech to his interpretation of it.
+
+"They're at the shanty now," he says, in a whisper.  "The two houn's guv
+tongue on hearin' 'em approach.  That fust shout war from the Injun
+Cheeko; and the t'other air hern--my gurl's.  Durnation! if they hurt
+but a he'r o' her head--Wagh! what's the use o' my threetenin'?"
+
+As if seeing his impotence, the hunter suddenly ceases speech, again
+setting himself to listen.  Hamersley, without heeding him, is already
+in this attitude.
+
+And now out of the valley arise other sounds, not all of them loud.  The
+stream, here and there falling in cataracts, does something to deaden
+them.  Only now and then there is the neigh of a horse, and
+intermittently the bark of one of the bloodhounds, as if these animals
+had yielded, but yet remain hostile to the intruders.  They hear human
+voices, too, but no shout following that of Chico, and no scream save
+the one sent up by Conchita.
+
+There is loud talk, a confusion of speakers, but no report of firearms.
+This last is tranquillising.  A shot at that moment heard by Hamersley
+would give him more uneasiness than if the gun were aimed at himself.
+
+"Thank God!" he gasps out, after a long spell of listening, "Miranda has
+made no resistance.  He's seen it would be no use, and has quietly
+surrendered.  I suppose it's all over now, and they are captives."
+
+"Wal, better thet than they shed be corpses," is the consolatory
+reflection of the hunter.  "So long as thar's breath left in thar bodies
+we kin hev hope, as I sayed arready.  Let's keep up our hearts by
+thinkin' o' the fix we war in atween the wagguns, an' arterwards thet
+scrape in the cave.  We kim clar out o' both in a way we mout call
+mirakelous, an' we may yit git them clar in someat the same fashion.
+'Slong's I've got my claws roun' the stock o' a good gun, wi' plenty o'
+powder and lead, I ain't a-goin' to deespar.  We've both got that,
+tharfor niver say die!"
+
+The hunter's quaint speech is encouraging; but for all, it does not
+hinder him and his comrade from soon after returning to a condition of
+despondency, if not actual despair.
+
+A feeling which holds possession of them till the rising of the sun, and
+on till it reaches meridian.
+
+When the day breaks, with eyes anxiously scrutinising, they look down
+into the valley.  A mist hangs over the stream, caused by the spray of
+its cataracts.
+
+Lifting at length, there is displayed a scene not very different from
+what they have been expecting.
+
+Around the ranche they see horses picketed and soldiers moving among
+them or standing in groups apart; in short, a picture of military life
+in "country quarters."
+
+Their point of view is too far off to identify individual forms or note
+the exact action carried on.  This last, left to conjecture, is filled
+up by fancies of the most painful kind.
+
+For long hours are they constrained to endure them--up to that of noon.
+Then, the notes of a bugle, rising clear above the hissing of the
+cascades, foretell a change in the spectacle.  It is the call, "Boots
+and saddles!"  The soldiers are seen caparisoning their horses and
+standing by the stirrup.
+
+Another blast gives the order to "Mount!"  Soon after, the "Forward!"
+Then the troop files off from the front of the jacal, disappearing under
+the trees like a gigantic glittering serpent.  The white drapery of a
+woman's dress is seen fluttering at its head, as if the reptile had
+seized upon some tender prey--a dove from the cote--and was bearing it
+off to its slimy lair.
+
+For another half-hour the two men on the mound wait with nervous
+impatience.  It requires this time to make the ascent from the centre of
+the valley to the upper plain.  After entering among the trees, the
+soldiers and their captives are out of sight; but the clattering of
+their horses' hoofs can be heard as they strike upon the rock-strewn
+path.  Once or twice a trumpet sound proclaims their movements upon the
+march.
+
+At length the head of the troop appears, the leading files following one
+after the other along the narrow ledge.  As they approach the summit of
+the pass the track widens, admitting a formation "by twos."  At the
+trumpet call they change to this, a single horseman riding at their
+head.
+
+He is now near enough for his features to be distinguished, and
+Hamersley's heart strikes fiercely against his ribs as he recognises
+them.  If he had any doubt before, it is set at rest now.  He sees Gil
+Uraga, certain of his being the man who caused the destruction of his
+caravan.  His own horse, ridden by the robber, is proof conclusive of
+the crime.
+
+He takes note that the lancer colonel is dressed in splendid style, very
+different from the dust-stained cavalier who the day before passed over
+the desert plain.  Now he appears in a gorgeous laced uniform, with
+lancer cap and plume, gold cords and aiguillettes dangling adown his
+breast; for he has this morning made his toilet with care, in
+consideration of the company in which he intends travelling.
+
+Neither Hamersley nor the hunter hold their eyes long upon him; they are
+both looking for another individual--each his own.  These soon make
+their appearance, their white dresses distinguishable amid the darker
+uniforms.  During the march their position has been changed.  They are
+now near the centre of the troop, the young lady upon her own mare
+Lolita, while the Indian damsel is mounted on a mule.  They are free,
+both hand and limb, but a file in front, with another behind, have
+charge of them.  Farther rearward is another group, more resembling
+captives.  This is composed of three men upon mules, fast bound to
+saddle and stirrup, two of them having their arms pinioned behind their
+backs.  Their animals are led each by a trooper who rides before.  The
+two about whose security such precaution has been taken are Don Valerian
+and the doctor, the third, with his arms free, is Chico.  His
+fellow-servant Manuel, also on mule-back, is following not far behind,
+but in his attitude or demeanour there is nothing to tell of the
+captive.  If at times he looks gloomy, it is when he reflects upon his
+black treason and infamous ingratitude.  Perhaps he has repented, or
+deems the prospect not so cheerful as expected.  After all, what will be
+his reward?  He has ruined his master and many others beside, but this
+will not win him the love of Conchita.
+
+The spectators feel somewhat relieved as Colonel Miranda comes in sight.
+Still more as the march brings him nearer, and it can be seen that he
+sits his horse with no sign of having received any injury; and neither
+has Don Prospero.  The elaborate fastenings are of themselves evidences
+that no hurt has happened to them.  It has been a capture without
+resistance, as their friends hoped it would, their fears having been of
+a conflict to end in the death of the exiles.
+
+One by one, and two by two, the troops come filing on, till the leader
+is opposite the spot where the two spectators stand crouching among the
+trees.  These are dwarf cedars, and give the best cover for concealment.
+Thoroughly screened by their thickly-set boughs and dense dark foliage,
+Hamersley and the hunter command a clear view of everything below.  The
+distance to the summit of the pass is about two hundred yards in a
+slanting direction.
+
+As the lancer colonel approaches the spot where the picket is posted, he
+halts and gives an order.  It is for the guard to fall in along with the
+rest of the troop.
+
+At this moment a similar thought is in the minds of the two men whose
+eyes are upon him from above.  Wilder is the first to give expression to
+it.  He does so in an undertone,--
+
+"Ef we ked trust the carry o' our rifles, Frank."
+
+"I was thinking of it," is the rejoinder, equally earnest.  "We can't
+I'm afraid it's too far."
+
+"I weesh I only had my old gun; she'd a sent a bullet furrer than that.
+A blue pill inter his stomach 'ud simplerfy matters consid'rable.  'Tall
+events it 'ud git your gurl out o' danger, and mayhap all on 'em.  I
+b'lieve the hul clanjamfery o' them spangled jay birds 'ud run at
+hearin' a shot.  Then we ked gie 'em a second, and load an' fire half a
+dozen times afore they could mount up hyar--if they'd dar to try it.
+Ah! it's too fur.  The distance in these hyar high purairas is desprit
+deceivin'.  Durned pity we kedn't do it.  I fear we can't."
+
+"If we should miss, then--"
+
+"Things 'ud only be wuss.  I reck'n we'd better let'm slide now, and
+foller arter.  Thar boun' straight for the Del Norte; but whether or no,
+we kin eesy pick up thar trail."
+
+Hamersley still hesitates, his fingers alternately tightening on his
+gun, and then relaxing.  His thoughts are flowing in a quick current--
+too quick for cool deliberation.  He knows he can trust his own aim, as
+well as that of his comrade.  But the distance is doubtful, and the
+shots might fall short.  Then it would be certain death to them; for the
+situation is such that there could be no chance to escape, with fifty
+horsemen to pursue, themselves mounted upon mules, and therewith be
+reached without difficulty.  They might defend themselves on the mound,
+but not for long.  Two against fifty, they would soon be overpowered.
+After all, it will be better to let the troop pass on.  So counsels the
+ex-Ranger, pointing out that the prisoners will be carried on to New
+Mexico--to Albuquerque, of course.  He and his comrade are Americans,
+and not proscribed there.  They can follow without fear.  Some better
+opportunity may arise for rescuing the captives.  Their prison may offer
+this; and from what they have heard of such places it is probable
+enough.  A golden key is good for opening the door of any gaol in
+Mexico.
+
+Only one thought hinders Hamersley from at once giving way to this
+reasoning--the thought of his betrothed being in such company--under
+such an escort, worse than unprotected!
+
+Once more he scans the distance that separates him from the soldiers,
+his gun tightly grasped.
+
+Could their colonel but suspect his proximity at that moment, and what
+is passing through his mind, he would sit with little confidence in his
+saddle, bearing himself less pompously.
+
+Caution, backed by the ex-Ranger's counsel, asserts its sway, and the
+Kentuckian relaxes his grasp on the gun, dropping its butt to the
+ground.
+
+The last files, having cleared the gap, are formed into a more compact
+order; when, the bugle again sounding "Forward," the march is resumed,
+the troop striking off over the plain in the direction whence it came.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR.
+
+A MAN AND A MULE.
+
+Carefully as ever, Hamersley and the Texan keep to their place of
+concealment.  They dare not do otherwise.  The slope by which they
+ascended is treeless, the cedars only growing upon the summit.  The
+gorge, too, by which they went up, and at the bottom of which their
+mules were left, debouches westwardly on the plain--the direction in
+which the lancers have ridden off.  Any of these chancing to look back
+would be sure to catch sight of them if they show themselves outside the
+sheltering scrub.  They have their apprehensions about their animals.
+It is a wonder these have not been seen by the soldiers.  Although
+standing amid large boulders, a portion of the bodies of both are
+visible from the place mentioned.  Fortunately for their owners, their
+colour closely resembled the rocks, and for which the troopers may have
+mistaken them.  More probably, in their impatience to proceed upon the
+return route, none of them turn their eyes in that direction.
+
+An equally fortunate circumstance is the fact of the mules being
+muffled.  Otherwise they might make themselves heard.  Not a sound,
+either snort or hinney, escape them; not so much as the stamping of a
+hoof.  They stand patient and silent, as if they themselves had fear of
+the men who are foes to their masters.
+
+For a full hour after the lancers have left these stay crouching behind
+the cedars.  Even an hour does not take the troop out of sight.
+Cumbered with their captives, they march at slow, measured pace--a walk.
+Moreover, the pellucid atmosphere of the Staked Plain makes objects
+visible at double the ordinary distance.  They are yet but five miles
+from the buttes, and, looking back, could see a man at their base, more
+surely one mounted.
+
+The two who are on the summit allow quite twenty minutes more to elapse
+before they think of leaving it.  Then, deeming it safe, they prepare to
+descend.
+
+Still they are in no haste.  Their intention is to follow the cavalcade,
+but by no means to overtake it.  Nor do they care to keep it in sight,
+but the contrary, since that might beget danger to themselves.  They
+anticipate no difficulty in taking up the trail of a troop like that
+Walt confidently declares he could do so were he blindfolded as their
+mules, adding, in characteristic phraseology, "I ked track the skunks by
+thar smell."
+
+Saying this he proposes a "bit o' brakwist," a proposition his comrade
+assents to with eagerness.  They have not eaten since dinner of the day
+before, their provisions having been left below, and the sharp morning
+air has given additional edge to their appetites.  This at length draws
+them down to their mules.
+
+Taking off the _tapados_ to relieve the poor animals, who have somewhat
+suffered from being so scurvily treated, they snatch a hasty repast from
+their haversacks, then light their pipes for a smoke preparatory to
+setting forth.  It is not yet time, for the soldiers are still in sight.
+They will wait till the last lance pennon sinks below the horizon.
+
+Whilst smoking, with eyes bent upon the receding troop, a sound salutes
+their ears, causing both to start.  Fortunately they draw back behind
+one of the boulders, and there remain listening.  What they heard was
+certainly a hoofstroke, whether of horse or mule--not of either of their
+own; these are by their sides, while the sound that has startled them
+appears to proceed from the other side of the mound, as if from the
+summit of the pass leading up out of the valley.
+
+They hear it again.  Surely it is in the gorge that goes down, or at the
+head of it.
+
+Their conjecture is that one of the lancers has lagged behind, and is
+now _en route_ to overtake the troop.
+
+If it be thus what course are they to pursue?  He may look back and see
+themselves or their animals, then gallop on and report to his comrades.
+
+'Twould be a sinister episode, and they must take steps to prevent it.
+
+They do so by hastily restoring the _tapados_ and leading the mules into
+a _cul-de-sac_, where they will be safe from observation.
+
+Again they hear the sound, still resembling a hoofstroke, but not of an
+animal making way over the ground in walk, trot, or gallop, but as one
+that refused to advance, and was jibbing.
+
+Between them and it there seems great space, a projecting spur of the
+butte from which they have just descended.  By climbing the ridge for a
+score of yards or so they can see into the gorge that goes down to the
+valley.
+
+As the trampling still appears steadfast to the same point, their alarm
+gives place to curiosity, then impatience.  Yielding to this, they
+scramble up the ridge that screens the kicking animal from their view.
+
+Craning their heads over its crest, they see that which, instead of
+causing further fear, rather gives them joy.
+
+Just under their eyes, in the gap of the gorge, a man is struggling with
+a mule.  It is a contest of very common occurrence.  The animal is
+saddled, and the man is making attempts to get his leg over the saddle.
+The hybrid is restive, and will not permit him to put foot in the
+stirrup.  Ever as he approaches it shies back, rearing and pitching to
+the full length and stretch of the bridle-rein.
+
+Soon as seeing him, they upon the ridge recognise the man thus
+vexatiously engaged.  He is the peon Manuel.
+
+"The durned scoundrel," hissed Walt, through clenched teeth.  "What's
+kep him ahint, I wonder?"
+
+Hamersley responds not--he, too, conjecturing.
+
+"By Jehorum!" continues the hunter, "it looks like he'd stayed back
+apurpose.  Thar ked been nothin' to hinder him to go on 'long wi' the
+rest.  The questyun air what he's stayed for.  Some trick o' trezun,
+same as he's did afore."
+
+"Something of the kind, I think," rejoins Hamersley, still considering.
+
+"Wal, he's wantin' to get on bad enuf now, if the mule 'ud only let him.
+Say, Frank, shell I put a payriud to their conflict by sendin' a bit o'
+lead that way, I kin rub the varmint out by jest pressin' my finger on
+this trigger."
+
+"Do you mean the man or the mule?"
+
+"The man, in coorse.  For what shed I shoot the harmless critter that's
+been carryin' him?  Say the word, an' I'll send him to kingdom come in
+the twinklin' o' a goat's tail.  I've got sight on him.  Shall I draw
+the trigger?"
+
+"For your life, don't look yonder!  They're not yet out of sight.  They
+might see the smoke, perhaps hear the crack.  Comrade, you're taking
+leave of your senses!"
+
+"Contemplatin' that ugly anymal below air enough to make me.  It a'most
+druv me out o' my mind to think o' his black ungratefulness.  Now,
+seein' hisself through the sight of a rifle 'ithin good shootin'
+distance, shurely ye don't intend we shud let him go!"
+
+"Certainly not.  That would be ruin to ourselves.  We must either kill
+or capture him.  But it must be done without noise, or at least without
+firing a shot.  They're not far enough off yet."
+
+"How d'ye devise, then?"
+
+"Let's back to our mules, mount, and get round the ledge.  We must head
+him before he gets out of the gap.  Come on!"
+
+Both scramble back down the slope quicker than they ascended it, knowing
+there is good reason for haste--the best for their lives--every thing
+may depend on capturing the peon.  Should he see them, and get away, it
+will be worse both for them and their dear ones.
+
+In two minutes the mules are again unmuffled and mounted.  In two more
+they are entering the gap from outside, their masters on their backs.
+
+These, spurring the animals to speed, enter the gorge, their eyes
+everywhere.  They reach the spot where the peon was so late seen,
+striving to get into his saddle.  They see the turf torn up by the
+hybrid's hoofs, but no man, no mule.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE.
+
+A LAGGER LAGGED.
+
+The surprise of the two men is but momentary; for there can be no
+mystery about the peon's disappearance.  He has simply gone down the
+ravine, and back into the valley.  Is he on return to the house, which
+they know is now untenanted, and, if so, with what intent?  Has he
+become so attached to the place as to intend prolonging his sojourn
+there? or has something arisen to make him discontented with the company
+he has been keeping, and so determined to get quit of it by hanging
+behind?
+
+Something of this sort was on their minds as they last saw him over the
+crest of the ridge.  While in conflict with his mule, he was ever and
+anon turning his eyes towards the point where the soldiers must have
+been last seen by him; for from the gap in which he was these were no
+longer visible.  Both Hamersley and Wilder had noticed an uneasy air
+about him at the time, attributing it to his vexation at being delayed
+by the obstinacy of the animal and the fear of being left behind.  Now
+that he had mounted and taken the back-track, the cause must be
+different.
+
+"Thar's somethin' queery in what the coyoats doin'," is Walt's
+half-soliloquised observation; adding, "Though what he's arter tain't so
+eezy to tell.  He must be tired o' their kumpany, and want to get shet
+o' it.  He'll be supposin' they ain't likely to kum back arter him; an'
+I reck'n they won't, seein' they've got all out o' him they need care
+for.  Still, what ked he do stayin' hyar by himself?"
+
+Walt is still ignorant of the peon's partiality for his own sweetheart.
+He has had a suspicion of something, but not the deep, dire passion that
+burns in the Indian's heart.  Aware of this, he would not dwell on the
+probability of the man having any intention, any more than himself,
+remain behind now that Conchita is gone.
+
+"Arter all," he continues, still speaking in half soliloquy, "I don't
+think stayin's his game.  There's somethin' else at the bottom on't."
+
+"Can Uraga have sent him back on any errand?"
+
+"No, that ain't it eyther.  More like he's good on a errand o' his own.
+I reckon I ken guess it now.  The traitur intends turnin' thief as
+well--doin' a leetle bit o' stealin' along wi' his treason.  Ye
+remember, Frank, thar war a goodish grit o' valleyables in the shanty--
+the saynorita's jeweltry an' the like.  Jest possyble, in the skrimmage,
+whiles they war making capter o' thar prisoners, this ugly varmint tuk
+devantage o' the confusion to secret a whun o' thar gimcracks, an's now
+goed back arter 'em."
+
+"It seems probable enough.  Still, he might have some other errand, and
+may not go on as far as the house.  In which case, we may look for his
+return this way at any moment.  It will never do for us to start upon
+their trail, leaving him coming in our rear.  He would see us, and in
+the night might slip past and give them warning they were followed."
+
+"All that air true.  We must grup him now."
+
+"Should we go down after him, or stay here till he comes up?"
+
+"Neythur o' the two ways'll do.  He moutn't kum along no time.  If he's
+got plunder he won't try to overtake the sogers, but wait till they're
+well out o' his way.  He knows the road to the Del Norte, and kin travel
+it by hisself."
+
+"Then we should go down after him."
+
+"Only one o' us.  If we both purceed to the shanty there's be a chance
+o' passin' him on the way.  He mout be in the timmer, an', seein' us,
+put back out hyar, an' so head us.  There'd no need o' both for the
+capterin' sech a critter as that.  I'll fetch him on his marrowbones by
+jest raisin' this rifle.  Tharfor, s'pose you stay hyar an' guard this
+gap, while I go arter an' grup him.  I'm a'most sartin he'll be at the
+shanty.  Anyhow, he's in the trap, and can't get out till he's hed my
+claws roun' the scruff o' his neck an' my thumb on his thropple."
+
+"Don't kill him if you can help it.  True he deserves to die; but we may
+want a word with him first.  He may give information that will
+afterwards prove useful to us."
+
+"Don't be afeared, Frank.  I shan't hurt a har o' his head, unless he
+reesists, then I must kripple him a bit.  But he ain't like to show
+fight, such a coyoat as he!"
+
+"All right, Walt.  I'll wait for you."
+
+"You won't hev long.  Ye'd better take kiver back o' them big stones to
+make sure o' not bein' seen by him, shed he by any chance slip past me.
+An' keep yur ears open.  Soon as I've treed him I'll gie a whistle or
+two.  When ye hear that ye can kim down."
+
+After delivering this chapter of suggestions and injunctions, the
+ex-Ranger heads his mule down the pass, and is soon lost to his
+comrade's sight as he turns off along the ledge of the cliff.
+
+Hamersley, himself inclined to caution, follows the direction last
+given, and rides back behind one of the boulders.  Keeping in the
+saddle, he sits in silent meditation.  Sad thoughts alone occupy his
+mind.  His prospects are gloomy indeed; his forecast of the future dark
+and doubtful.  He has but little hope of being able to benefit Don
+Valerian Miranda, and cannot be sure of rescueing his sister--his own
+betrothed--in time to avert that terrible catastrophe which he knows to
+be impending over her.  He does not give it a name--he scarce dares let
+it take shape in his thoughts.
+
+Nearly half-an-hour is spent in this painful reverie.  He is aroused
+from it by a sound which ascends out of the valley.  With a start of joy
+he recognises the signal his comrade promised to send him.  The whistle
+is heard in three distinct "wheeps," rising clear above the hoarser
+sibillations of the cascades.  From the direction he can tell it comes
+from the neighbourhood of the house; but, without waiting to reflect
+whither, he spurs his mule out, and rides down the pass as rapidly as
+possible.
+
+On reaching the level below he urges the animal to a gallop, and soon
+arrives at the ranche.
+
+There, as expected, he finds his companion, with the peon a captive.
+
+The two, with their mules, form a tableau in front of the untenanted
+dwelling.
+
+The ex-Ranger is standing in harangue attitude, slightly bent forward,
+his body propped by his rifle, the butt of which rests upon the ground.
+At his feet is the Indian, lying prostrate, his ankles lashed together
+with a piece of cowhide rope, his wrists similarly secured.
+
+"I ked catched him a leetle sooner," says Walt to his comrade, coming
+up, "but I war kewrious to find out what he war arter, an' waited to
+watch him.  That's the explication o' it."
+
+He points to a large bag lying near, with its contents half poured out--
+a varied collection of articles of bijouterie and virtu, resembling a
+cornucopia; spilling its fruits.  Hamersley recognises them as part of
+the _penates_ of his late host.
+
+"Stolen goods," continues Walt, "that's what they air.  An' stole from a
+master he's basely betrayed, may be to death.  A mistress, besides,
+that's been too kind to him.  Darnation! that's a tortiss-shell comb as
+belonged to my Concheeter, an' a pair o' slippers I ken swar wur here.
+What shed we do to him?"
+
+"What I intended," responds Hamersley, assuming a curious air; "first
+make him confess--tell all he knows.  When we've got his story out of
+him we can settle that next."
+
+The confession is not very difficult to extract.  With Wilder's
+bowie-knife gleaming before his eyes, its blade within six inches of his
+breast, the wretch reveals all that has passed since the moment of his
+first meditating treason.  He even makes declaration of the motive,
+knowing the nobility of the men who threatened him, and thinking by this
+means to obtain pardon.
+
+To strengthen his chances he goes still farther, turning traitor against
+him to whom he had sold himself--Uraga.  He has overheard a conversation
+between the Mexican colonel and his adjutant, Lieutenant Roblez.  It was
+to the effect that they do not intend taking their prisoners all the way
+back to Albuquerque.  How they mean to dispose of them the peon does not
+know.
+
+He had but half heard the dialogue relating to Don Valerian and the
+doctor.
+
+The female prisoners!  Can he tell anything of what is intended with
+them?  Though not in these terms, the question is asked with this
+earnestness.
+
+The peon is unable to answer it.  He does not think they are prisoners--
+certainly not Conchita.  She is only being taken back along with her
+mistress.  About the senorita, his mistress, he heard some words pass
+between Uraga and Roblez, but without comprehending their signification.
+
+In his own heart Hamersley can supply it--does so with dark, dire
+misgivings.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIFTY SIX.
+
+"THE NORTE."
+
+Westward, across the Liana Estacado, Uraga and his lancers continue on
+their return march.  The troop, going by twos, is again drawn out in an
+elongated line, the arms and accoutrements of the soldiers glancing in
+the sun, while the breeze floats back the pennons of their lances.  The
+men prisoners are a few files from the rear, a file on each flank
+guarding them.  The women are at the head, alongside the guide and
+sub-lieutenant, who has charge of the troop.
+
+For reasons of his own the lancer colonel does not intrude his company
+on the captives.  He intends doing so in his own time.  It has not yet
+come.  Nor does he take any part in directing the march of the men.
+That duty has been entrusted to the _alferez_; he and Roblez riding
+several hundred paces in advance of the troop.
+
+He has thus isolated himself for the purpose of holding conversation
+with his adjutant, unembarrassed by any apprehension of being overheard.
+
+"Well, _ayadante_," he begins, as soon as they are safe beyond earshot,
+"what's your opinion of things now?"
+
+"I think we've done the thing neatly, though not exactly the way you
+wanted it."
+
+"Anything but that.  Still, I don't despair of getting everything
+straight in due time.  The man Manuel has learnt from his fellow-servant
+that our American friends have gone on to the settlements of the Del
+Norte.  Strange if we can't find them there; and stranger still if, when
+found, I don't bring them to book at last.  _Caraja_!  Neither of the
+two will ever leave New Mexico alive."
+
+"What about these two--our Mexican friends?"
+
+"For them a fate the very reverse.  Neither shall ever reach it alive."
+
+"You intend taking them there dead, do you?"
+
+"Neither living nor dead.  I don't intend taking them there at all."
+
+"You think of leaving them by the way?"
+
+"More than think; I've determined upon it."
+
+"But surely you don't mean to kill them in cold blood?"
+
+"I won't harm a hair of their heads--neither I, nor you, nor any of my
+soldiers.  For all that, they shall die."
+
+"Colonel, your speech is somewhat enigmatical.  I don't comprehend it."
+
+"In due time you will.  Have patience for four days more--it may be
+less.  Then you will have the key to the enigma.  Then Don Valerian
+Miranda and the old rascal Don Prospero shall cease to trouble the
+dreams of Gil Uraga."
+
+"And you are really determined on Miranda's death?"
+
+"A silly question for a man who knows me as you.  Of course I am."
+
+"Well, for my part, I don't care much one way or the other, only I can't
+see what benefit it will be to you.  He's not such a bad sort of a
+fellow, and has got the name of being a courageous soldier."
+
+"You're growing wonderfully sentimental, _ayadante_.  The tender glances
+of the senorita seem to have softened you."
+
+"Not likely," rejoins the adjutant with a grim smile.  "The eyes that
+could make impression upon the heart of Gaspar Roblez don't exist in the
+head of woman.  If I have any weaknesses in the feminine way, it's for
+the goddess Fortuna.  So long as I can get a pack of playing cards, with
+some rich _gringo_ to face me in the game, I'll leave petticoats alone."
+
+In turn the colonel smiles.  He knows the idiosyncracy of his
+confederate in crime.  Rather a strange one for a man who has committed
+many robberies, and more than once imbued his hands in blood.  Cards,
+dice and drink are his passions, his habitual pleasure.  Of love he
+seems incapable, and does not surrender himself to its lure, though
+there has been a chapter of it in his life's history, of which Uraga is
+aware, having an unfortunate termination, sealing his heart against the
+sex to contempt, almost hatred.  Partially to this might be traced the
+fact of his having fallen into evil courses, and, like his colonel,
+become a robber.  But, unlike the latter, he is not all bad.  As in the
+case of Conrad, linked to a thousand crimes, one virtue is left to him--
+courage.  Something like a second remains in his admiration of the same
+quality in others.  This it is that leads him to put in a word for
+Colonel Miranda, whose bravery is known far and wide throughout the
+Mexican army.  Continuing to plead for him, he says--
+
+"I don't see why you should trouble yourself to turn States'
+executioner.  When we get to Santa Fe our prisoners can be tried by
+court-martial.  No doubt they'll be condemned and shot."
+
+"Very great doubt of it, _ayadante_.  That might have done when we first
+turned their party out.  But of late, things are somewhat changed.  In
+the hills of the Moctezumas matters are again getting complicated, and
+just now our worthy chief, El Cojo, will scarce dare to sign a sentence
+of death, especially where the party to be _passado por les armes_ is a
+man of note like Don Valerian Miranda."
+
+"He must die?"
+
+"_Teniente_!  Turn your head round and look me straight in the face."
+
+"I am doing so, colonel.  Why do you wish me?"
+
+"You see that scar on my cheek?"
+
+"Certainly I do."
+
+"Don Valerian Miranda did not give the wound that's left it, but he was
+partly the cause of my receiving it.  But for him the duel would have
+ended differently.  It's now twelve months gone since I got that gash,
+at the same time losing three of my teeth.  Ever since the spot has felt
+aflame as if hell's fire were burning a hole through my cheek.  It can
+only be extinguished by the blood of those who kindled it.  Miranda is
+one of them.  You've asked the question, `Must he die?'  Looking at this
+ugly scar, and into the eye above it, I fancy you will not think it
+necessary to repeat the question."
+
+"But how is it to be done without scandal?  As you yourself have said,
+it won't do for us to murder the man outright.  We may be held to
+account--possibly ourselves called before a court-martial.  Had he made
+resistance, and given us a pretext--"
+
+"My dear _ayadante_, don't trouble yourself about pretexts.  I have a
+plan which will serve equally as well--my particular purpose, much
+better.  As I've promised, you shall know it in good time--participate
+in its execution.  But, come, we've been discoursing serious matters
+till I'm sick of them.  Let's talk of something lighter and pleasanter--
+say, woman.  What think you of my charmer?"
+
+"The Dona Adela?"
+
+"Of course.  Could any other charm me?  Even you, with your heart of
+flint, should feel sparks struck out of it at the sight of her."
+
+"Certainly she's the most beautiful captive I've ever assisted at the
+taking of."
+
+"Captive!" mutters Uraga, in soliloquy.  "I wish she were, in a sense
+different."
+
+Then, with a frown upon his face, continuing,--
+
+"What matters it!  When he is out of the way, I shall have it all my own
+way.  Woo her as Tarquin did Lucretia, and she will yield not as the
+Roman matron, but as a Mexican woman--give her consent when she can no
+longer withhold it.  What is it, _cabo_?"
+
+The interrogatory is addressed to a corporal who has ridden alongside,
+and halts, saluting him.
+
+"Colonel, the _alferez_ sends me to report that the Indian is no longer
+with us."
+
+"What! the man Manuel?"
+
+"The same, colonel."
+
+"Halt!" commands Uraga, shouting aloud to the troop, which instantly
+comes to a stand.  "What's this I hear, _alferez_?" he asks, riding
+back, and speaking to the sub-lieutenant.
+
+"Colonel, we miss the fellow who guided us.  He must have dropped behind
+as we came out of the gorge.  He was with us on leaving the house, and
+along the valley road."
+
+"It don't much signify," says Uraga, in an undertone to Roblez; "we've
+got all out of him we need care for.  Still, it may be better to bring
+him along.  No doubt he slipped off to settle some affair of his own--
+some pilferings, I presume; and will be found at the ranche.  _Cabo_!
+take a file of men, go back to the valley, and bring the loiterer along
+with you.  As I intend marching slowly, you'll easily overtake us at our
+night camp."
+
+The corporal, singling out the file as directed, rides back towards the
+buttes, still in sight, while the troop continues its uninterrupted
+march.  Uraga and Roblez again go in advance, the former making further
+disclosure of his plans to his _particeps criminis_.
+
+Their confidential dialogue has lasted about an hour, when another of
+the lancers riding up again interrupts it.  He is a grizzled old
+veteran, who has once been a _cibolero_, and seen life upon the plains.
+
+"What is it, Hernandez?" demands the colonel.
+
+"_Senor coronel_," says the man, pointing to a little speck in the sky,
+that has just shown itself above the north-eastern horizon, "do you see
+yonder cloud?"
+
+"Cloud!  I see no cloud, unless you mean that spot on the horizon,
+scarce so large as the crown of my hat Is it that you mean?"
+
+"It is, colonel.  And small as it seems, there may come trouble from it.
+It don't look much now, but in ten minutes time it will be big enough
+to spread all over the sky, and over us too."
+
+"You think so?  Why, what is it, Hernandez?  El Norte?"
+
+"I'm sure of it.  _Carramba_!  I've seen it too often.  Trust me,
+colonel, we're going to have a storm."
+
+"In that case we'd better bring to a halt and get under shelter.  I see
+nothing here that would screen a cat, save yonder clump of dwarf oaks.
+In a way it'll keep the blast off us, and, as we may as well stay under
+it for the night, it will furnish fuel for our fires.  Ride back to the
+troop.  Tell the _alferez_ to bring on the men to yonder grove, and
+quickly.  Let the tents be pitched there.  _Vaya_!"
+
+The _ci-devant_ cibolero does as directed, going at a gallop; while the
+colonel and his adjutant trot on to the clump of blackjacks, standing
+some three hundred paces out of the line of march.  It was the same
+copse that gave shade and concealment to Frank Hamersley and Walt Wilder
+on the day preceding.
+
+On arriving at its edge, which they do before their followers, Uraga and
+Roblez see the tracks of the two mules.  Not without surprise, and they
+exchange some words regarding them.  But the fast-darkening sky drives
+the subject out of their thoughts, and they occupy themselves in
+choosing a spot for pitching the tents.
+
+Of these there are too--one which Urago owns, the other, found in the
+ranche, an old marquee Miranda had carried with him in his flight.  This
+has been brought along for the accommodation of his sister, whom Uraga
+has reason to treat tenderly.
+
+Both tents are soon set up in the shelter of the black-jacks; the
+marquee, as ordered by Uraga, occupied by the female captives.
+
+The lancers, having hastily dismounted, picket their horses and make
+other preparations for the storm, predicted by the ex-cibolero as
+something terrific.
+
+Before long they see his prediction verified to the spirit and the
+letter.
+
+The sky, hitherto shining like a sapphire and blue as a turquoise,
+becomes changed to the sombre hue of lead; then darker, as if night had
+suddenly descended over the sterile plain.  The atmosphere, but a moment
+before unpleasantly hot, is now cold as winter; the thermometer is less
+than twenty minutes falling over forty degrees--almost to freezing
+point!
+
+It is not night which causes the darkness, nor winter the cold.  Both
+come from an atmospheric phenomenon peculiar to the table-lands of
+Texas, and far more feared by the traveller.  It is that called by
+Mexicans and styled by the ex-cibolero _El Norte_; by Texans known as
+"The Norther."
+
+Alike dreaded by both.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN.
+
+A CUMBERSOME CAPTIVE.
+
+Having made prisoner of the peon, and drawn out of him all he is able to
+tell, his captors have a difficulty in deciding what to do with him.  It
+will hamper them to take him along.  Still they cannot leave him behind;
+and the young Kentuckian is not cruel enough to kill him, though
+convinced of his deserving death.
+
+If left to himself, Walt might settle the question quickly.  Indignant
+at the Indian's treason, he has now a new reason to dislike him--as a
+rival.
+
+With the ex-Ranger this last weighs little.  He is sure of having the
+affections of Conchita.  He has her heart, with the promise of her hand,
+and in his own confiding simplicity has no fear of failure in that
+sense--not a pang of jealousy.  The idea of having for a rival the
+abject creature at his feet, whom he could crush out of existence with
+the heel of his horseskin boot, is too ridiculous for him to entertain.
+He can laugh it to scorn.
+
+Not for that would he now put an end to the man's life, but solely from
+a sense of outraged justice, with the rough-and-ready retribution to
+which, as a Texan Ranger, he has been accustomed.
+
+His comrade, less prone to acts of high-handed punishment, restrains
+him; and the two stand considering what they are to do with their
+prisoner, now proving so inconvenient.
+
+While still undecided a sound reaches their ears causing them to start
+and turn pale.  It is the trampling of horses; there can be no mistaking
+it for aught else.  And many of them; not two or three, or half a dozen,
+but a whole troop.
+
+Uraga and his lancers have re-entered the valley!  They are riding up to
+the ranche!  What but this can it be?  No other party of horsemen could
+be expected in that place.
+
+And no other thought have the two men hearing the hoof strokes.  They
+are sure it is the soldiers returning.
+
+Instinctively they retreat into the house, without taking their prisoner
+along with them.  Tied, he cannot stir from the spot.  If he could it
+would make little difference now.  Their determination is to defend
+themselves, if need be, to the death; and the hut, with its stout timber
+walls, is the best place they can think of.  It has two doors, opening
+front and back, both of heavy slabs--split trunks of the palmilla.  They
+have been constructed strongly and to shut close, for the nights are
+sometimes chilly, and grizzly bears stray around the ranche.
+
+Hastily shutting to the doors and barring them they take stand, each at
+a window, of which there are also two, both being in front.  They are
+mere apertures in the log wall, and of limited dimensions, but on this
+account all the better for their purpose, being large enough to serve as
+loopholes through which they can deliver their fire.
+
+The position is not unfavourable for defence.  The cabin stands close to
+a cliff, with but passage way behind.  In front the ground is open, a
+sort of natural lawn leading down to the lake; only here and there a
+tree diversifies its smooth surface.  Across this anyone approaching
+must come, whether they have entered the valley from above or below.  On
+each flank the facade of the precipice projects outward, so that the
+abutting points can be seen from either of the windows; and, as they are
+both within rifle range, an assailant attempting to turn the cabin so as
+to enter from the back would be exposed to the enfilading fire of those
+inside.  For security against a surround, the spot could not have been
+better chosen, and with anything like a fair proportion between
+besiegers and besieged the former would fail.  Under the circumstances,
+however, there is not likely to be this, and for the two men to attempt
+defending themselves would seem the certain sealing of their doom.
+
+What chance for them to hold the hut against a force of fifty armed
+men--soldiers--for if the whole of the troop is returning there is this
+number?  It may be not all have re-entered the valley--only a party sent
+back to bring on the pilferer, who has been missed upon the march.  In
+that case there will be some chance of withstanding their attack.  At
+all hazards it is to be withstood.
+
+What else can the two men do?  Surrender, and become the prisoner of
+Uraga?  Never!  They know the relentless ruffian too well, and with too
+good reason.  After their experience of him they need expect no mercy.
+The man who could leave them buried alive to die a lingering death in
+the gloomy recesses of a cavern, would be cruel enough not only to kill
+but torture them.  They have to "go under," anyhow, as the prairie
+hunter expresses it, adding, "Ef we must die let's do so, killin' them
+as kills us.  I'm good for half a score o' them leetle minikin Mexikins,
+an' I reck'n you, Frank, kin wipe out as many.  We'll make it a bloody
+bizness for them afore the last breath leeves our bodies.  Air you all
+churged an' riddy?"
+
+"I am," is the response of the Kentuckian, in stern, solemn tones,
+showing that he, as the Texan, has made up his mind to "die killing."
+
+Says the latter, "They'll come out through the trees yonder, where the
+path runs in.  Let's take the fust as shows, an' drop him dead.  Gie me
+the chance, Frank.  I'm dyin' to try the doctor's gun."
+
+"By all means do so."
+
+"You fetch the second out o' his saddle, if a second show.  That'll gie
+the others a scare, an' keep 'em back a bit, so's we'll hev good time to
+get loaded agin."
+
+All this--both speech and action--has not occupied over two minutes of
+time.  The rush inside the cabin, the closing of the doors, and taking
+stand at the windows, have been done in that haste with which men
+retreat from a tiger or flee before a prairie fire.
+
+And now, having taken all the precautions possible, the two men wait
+behind the walls, gun in hand, prepared for the approach of the
+assailants--themselves so sheltered by the obscurity inside as not to be
+seen from without.
+
+As yet no enemy has made appearance.  No living thing is seen outside,
+save the lump of copper-coloured humanity prostrate on the sward, beside
+the bag and swag he has been hindered from taking away.  Still the shod
+hoofs are heard striking against stones, the click sounding clearer and
+nearer.  They inside the _jacal_ listen with bated breath, but hearts
+beating audibly.  Hearts filled with anxiety.  How could it be else?  In
+another minute they may expect to engage in a life-and-death conflict--
+for themselves too likely a death one.
+
+Something more than anxiety stirs within them.  Something of
+apprehension, perhaps actual fear.  If so, not strange; fear, under the
+circumstances, excusable, even in the hearts of heroes.  Stranger were
+it otherwise.
+
+Whatever their emotions at the moment, they experience a sudden change,
+succeeded by a series.  The first is surprise.  While listening to the
+hoof strokes of the horses, all at once it appears to them that these
+are not coming down the valley, but up it from below.  Is it a sonorous
+deception, caused by the sough of the cascade or reverberation from the
+rocks?
+
+More intently they bend their ears, more carefully note the quarter
+whence proceeds the sound.  Soon to answer the above question, each to
+himself, in the negative.  Unquestionably it comes from below.
+
+They have recovered from this, their first surprise, before a second
+seizes upon them.  Mingling with the horses' tramp they hear voices of
+men.  So much they might expect; but not such voices.  For amidst the
+speeches exchanged arise roars of laughter, not such as could come from
+the slender gullets of puny Mexicans, nor men of the Spanish race.  Nor
+does it resemble the savage cachinnation of the Comanche Indians.  Its
+rough aspirate, and rude, but hearty, tone could only proceed from
+Celtic or Anglo-Saxon throats.
+
+While still wondering at the sound ringing in their ears, a sight comes
+before their eyes which but lessens their surprise by changing it into
+gladness.  Out of the trees at the lower end of the lake a horseman is
+seen riding--after him a second.  Both so unlike Uraga or any of his
+lancers, so different from what they would deem enemies, that the rifles
+of Hamersley and the hunter, instead of being aimed to deliver their
+fire, are dropped, butts to the ground.
+
+Before clearing the skirt of timber, the two horsemen make halt--only
+for an instant, as if to reconnoitre.  They appear surprised at seeing
+the hut, and not less at sight of a man lying along the ground in front
+of it.  For they are near enough to perceive that he is tied hand and
+foot, and to note the spilled paraphernalia beside him.
+
+As they are men not easily to be daunted, the tableau, though it
+somewhat mystifies, does not affright or drive them back.  Instead, they
+advance without the slightest show of fear.  And behind the two first
+showing themselves follow two others, and two more, till fifty have
+filed out of the timber, and ride across the clear ground, heading
+direct for the house.
+
+Clad in rough coats of sombre hue, jeans, blanket, and buckskin, not a
+few of them ragged, with hats of all shapes and styles; carrying rifles
+in their hands, with revolving pistols and bowie-knives in their belts,
+there could be no mistaking them for the gaudily-bedizened troop whose
+horses at sunrise of that same day trampled over the same turf.  To the
+spectators no two cohorts could present a _coup d'oeil_ more dissimilar.
+Though about equal in numbers, the two bodies of men were unlike in
+everything else--arms, dresses, accoutrements; even their horses having
+but slight resemblance.  The horsemen late upon the spot would seem
+dwarfs beside those now occupying it, who in comparison might be
+accounted giants.
+
+Whatever the impression made upon the young prairie merchant by the
+sight of the newly-arrived troop, its effect upon the ex-Ranger might be
+compared to a shock of electricity, or the result that succeeds the
+inspiration of laughing-gas.
+
+Long before the first files have reached the centre of the cleared space
+he has sprung to the door, pulled the bar back, slammed open the slabs,
+almost smashing them apart, and rushed out; when outside sending forth a
+shout that causes every rock to re-echo it to the remotest corner of the
+valley.  It is a grand cry of gladness like a clap of thunder, with its
+lightning flash bursting forth from the cloud in which in has been pent
+up.
+
+After it some words spoken more coherently give the key to its jubilant
+tone.
+
+"Texas Rangers!  Ye've jest come in time.  Thank the Lord!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT.
+
+OLD ACQUAINTANCES.
+
+Not necessary to say that the horsemen riding up to the ranche are
+Captain Haynes and his company of Rangers.  They have come up the canon
+guided by Barbato.
+
+Even more than they is the renegade surprised at seeing a house in that
+solitary spot.  It was not there on his last passing through the valley
+in company with his red-skinned confederates, the Tenawas, which he did
+some twelve months before.  Equally astonished is he to see Walt Wilder
+spring out from the door, though he hails the sight with a far different
+feeling.  At the first glance he recognises the gigantic individual who
+so heroically defended the waggon-train, and the other behind--for
+Hamersley has also come forth--as the second man who retreated along
+with him.  Surely they are the two who were entombed!
+
+The unexpected appearance produces on the Mexican an effect almost
+comical, though not to him.  On the contrary, he stands appalled, under
+the influence of a dark superstitious terror, his only movement being to
+repeatedly make the sign of the Cross, all the while muttering Ave
+Marias.
+
+Under other circumstances his ludicrous behaviour would have elicited
+laughter from the Rangers--peals of it.  But their eyes are not on him,
+all being turned to the two men who have issued out of the cabin and are
+coming on towards the spot where they have pulled up.
+
+Several of them have already recognised their old comrade, and in
+hurried speech communicate the fact to the others.
+
+"Walt Wilder!" are the words that leap from a dozen pairs of lips, while
+they, pronouncing the name with glances aghast, look as if a spectre had
+suddenly appeared to them.
+
+An apparition, however, that is welcome; altogether different to the
+impression it has produced upon their guide.
+
+Meanwhile, Wilder advances to meet them; as he comes on, keeping up a
+fire of exclamatory phrases, addressed to Hamersley, who is close
+behind.
+
+"Air this chile awake, or only dreaming?  Look thar, Frank!  That's Ned
+Haynes, my old captin'.  An' thar's Nat Cully, an' Jim Buckland.  Durn
+it, thar's the hul strenth o' the kumpany."
+
+Walt is now close to their horses' heads, and the rangers, assured it is
+himself and not his ghost, are still stricken with surprise.  Some of
+them turn towards the Mexican for explanation.  They suppose him to have
+lied in his story about their old comrade having been closed up in a
+cave, though with what motive they cannot guess.  The man's appearance
+does not make things any clearer.  He still stands affrighted,
+trembling, and repeating his Paternosters.  But now in changed tone, for
+his fear is no longer of the supernatural.  Reason reasserting itself,
+he has given up the idea of disembodied spirits, convinced that the two
+figures coming forward are real flesh and blood; the same whose blood he
+assisted in spilling, and whose flesh he lately believed to be decaying
+in the obscurity of a cave.  He stands appalled as ever; no more with
+unearthly awe, but the fear of an earthly retribution--a terrible one,
+which he is conscious of having provoked by the cruel crime in which he
+participated.
+
+Whatever his fears and reflections they are not for the time intruded
+upon.  The rangers, after giving a glance to him, turn to the two men
+who are now at their horses' heads; and, springing from their saddles,
+cluster around them with questions upon their tongues and eager
+expectations in their eyes.
+
+The captain and Cully are the two first who interrogate.
+
+"Can we be sure it's you, Walt?" is the interrogatory put by his old
+officer.  "Is it yourself?"
+
+"Darn me ef I know, cap.  Jess now I ain't sure o' anythin', arter
+what's passed.  Specially meetin' you wi' the rest o' the boys.  Say,
+cap, what's fetched ye out hyar?"
+
+"You."
+
+"Me!"
+
+"Yes; we came to bury you."
+
+"Yis, hoss," adds Cully, confirming the captain's statement.  "We're on
+the way to gie burial to your bones, not expecting to find so much flesh
+on 'em.  For that purpiss we've come express all the way from Peecawn
+Crik.  An' as I know'd you had a kindly feelin' for yur ole shootin'-
+iron, I've brought that along to lay it in the grave aside o' ye."
+
+While speaking, Cully slips out of his saddle and gives his old comrade
+a true prairie embrace, at the same time handing him his gun.
+
+Neither the words nor the weapon makes things any clearer to Walt, but
+rather add to their complication.  With increased astonishment he cries
+out,--
+
+"Geehorum!  Am I myself, or somebody else?  Is't a dream, or not?
+That's my ole shootin' stick, sartin.  I left it over my hoss, arter
+cuttin' the poor critter's throat.  Maybe you've got him too?  I shedn't
+now be surprised at anythin'.  Come, Nat; don't stan' shilly-shallyin',
+but tell me all about it.  Whar did ye git the gun?"
+
+"On Peecawn Crik.  Thar we kim acrost a party o' Tenawa Kimanch, unner a
+chief they call Horned Lizart, o' the whom ye've heern.  He han't no
+name now, seein' he's rubbed out, wi' the majority of his band.  We did
+that.  The skrimmage tuk place on the crik, whar we foun' them camped.
+It didn't last long; an' arter 'twere eended, lookin' about among thar
+bodies, we foun' thar beauty o' a chief wi' this gun upon his parson,
+tight clutched in the death-grup.  Soon's seeing it I know'd 'twar
+yourn; an' in coorse surspected ye'd had some mischance.  Still, the gun
+kedn't gie us any informashun o' how you'd parted wi' it.  By good luck,
+'mong the Injuns we'd captered a Mexikin rennygade--thet thing ye see
+out thar.  He war joined in Horned Lizart's lot, an' he'd been wi' 'em
+some time.  So we put a loose larzette roun' his thrapple, an' on the
+promise o' its bein' tightened, he tolt us the hul story; how they hed
+attackted an' skuttled a carryvan, an' all 'bout entoomin' you an' a
+kimrade--this young fellur, I take it--who war wi' ye.  Our bizness out
+hyar war to look up yur bones an' gie 'em a more Christyun kind o'
+beril.  We were goin' for that cave, the rennygade guidin' us.  He said
+he ked take us a near cut up the gully through which we've just come--
+arter ascendin' one o' the heads o' the Loosyvana Rod.  Near cut!
+Doggone it, he's been righter than I reck'n he thort o'.  Stead o' your
+bones thar's yur body, wi' as much beef on't as ever.  Now I've told our
+story, we want yourn, the which appears to be a darned deal more o' a
+unexplainable mistry than ourn.  So open yur head, ole hoss, and let's
+have it."
+
+Brief and graphic as is Cully's narrative, it takes Walt still less time
+to put his former associates in possession of what has happened to
+himself and Hamersley, whom he introduces to them as the companion of
+his perilous adventures--the second of the two believed to have been
+buried alive!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIFTY NINE.
+
+MUTUAL EXPLANATIONS.
+
+The arrival of the Rangers at that particular time is certainly a
+contingency of the strangest kind.  Ten minutes later, and they would
+have found the jacal deserted; for Hamersley and Wilder had made up
+their minds to set off, taking the traitor along with them.  The Texans
+would have discovered signs to tell of the place having been recently
+occupied by a large body of men, and from the tracks of shod horses
+these skilled trailers would have known the riders were not Indians.
+Still, they would have made delay around the ranche and encamped in the
+valley for that night.  This had been their intention, their horses
+being jaded and themselves wearied making their way up the canon.
+Though but ten miles in a direct line, it was well nigh twenty by the
+winding of the stream--a good, even difficult, day's journey.
+
+On going out above they would have seen the trail of Uraga's party, and
+known it to be made by Mexican soldiers.  But, though these were their
+sworn foemen, they might not have been tempted to follow them.  The
+start of several hours, their own animals in poor condition, the
+likelihood of a larger force of the enemy being near--all this would
+have weighed with them, and they would have continued on to the cave
+whither the renegade was guiding them--a direction altogether different.
+A very singular coincidence, then, their coming up at that exact
+instant.  It seemed the hand of Providence opportunely extended; and in
+this light Hamersley looked upon it, as also the ex-Ranger.
+
+Briefly as may be they make known to the new-comers all that had
+transpired, or as much as for the time needs to be told.  Then appeal to
+them for assistance.
+
+By the Texans their cause is instantly espoused--unanimously, without
+one dissenting voice.  On the contrary, all are uttered with an energy
+and warmth that give Hamersley a world of hope.  Here are friends, whose
+enemies are his own.  And they are in strength sufficient to pursue
+Uraga's troop and destroy it.  They may overtake it that very night; if
+not, on the morrow.  And if not then, they will pursue it to the borders
+of New Mexico--to the banks of the Del Norte itself.
+
+His heart is no more depressed.  The chance of rescuing his friends from
+death and saving his betrothed from dishonour is no longer hopeless.
+There is now a probability--almost a certainty--of its success.  Backed
+by Wilder, he proposes instant pursuit.
+
+To the Texans the proposal is like an invitation to a ball or frontier
+fandango.  Excitement is the breath of their life, and a fight with
+Mexicans their joy; a pursuit of these their supremest delight.  Such as
+this, moreover, having for its object not only the defeat of a hated
+foe, but the recovery of captives, beautiful women, as their old comrade
+Walt enthusiastically describes them, is the very thing to rouse the
+Rangers to energetic action, rekindling in their hearts the spirit of
+frontier chivalry--the same which led them to become Rangers.
+
+Notwithstanding their wild enthusiasm they do not proceed rashly.
+Haynes, their captain, is an old "Indian fighter," one of the most
+experienced chiefs of that Texan border warfare, so long continued.
+
+Checking their impatience to pursue at once, he counsels prudence and
+deliberate action.  Cully also recommends this course.
+
+"But why should we lose a moment?" inquires the hot-blooded Kentuckian,
+chafing at the delay; "they cannot yet be more than ten miles off.  We
+may overtake them before sunset."
+
+"That's just what we mustn't do," rejoins the Ranger chief.  "Suppose
+they get sight of us before we're near?  On the naked plain, you say it
+is, they'd be sure to do that.  What then?  Their horses, I take it, are
+fresh, compared with ours.  They might gallop off and leave us gazing
+after them like so many April fools.  They'd have time, too, to take
+their prisoners along with them."
+
+This last speech makes an impression upon all.  Even Hamersley no longer
+offers opposition.
+
+"Let the sun go down," continues the Texan captain; "that's just what we
+want.  Since they're bound due west I reckon we can easily keep on their
+trail, clear night or dark one.  Here's Nat Cully can do that; and if
+our friend Walt hasn't lost his old skill he can be trusted for the
+same."
+
+The Ranger and ex-Ranger, both standing by, remain modestly silent.
+
+"Our plan will be," pursues Haynes, "to approach their camp under cover
+of night, surround, and so make certain of them.  They'll have a camp;
+and these Mexican soldiers are such greenhorns, they're sure to keep big
+fires burning, if it is only to give them light for their card-playing.
+The blaze'll guide us to their squatting-ground, wherever they may make
+it."
+
+The captain's scheme seems so rational that no one opposes it.  Walt
+Wilder in words signifies assent to it, and Hamersley, with, some
+reluctance, is at length constrained to do the same.
+
+It is resolved to remain two hours longer in the valley, and then start
+for the upper plain.  That will give time to recruit their horses on the
+nutritious _gramma_ grass, as themselves on the game they have killed
+before entering the canon.  This hangs plentifully over the horns of
+their saddles, in the shape of wild turkeys, haunches of venison, and
+pieces of bear meat.
+
+The fire on the cabin hearth and those kindled by the soldiers outside
+are still smouldering.  They are quickly replenished, and the abandoned
+cooking utensils once more called into use.  But pointed saplings, and
+the iron ramrods of their rifles--the Ranger's ordinary spit--are in
+greater demand, and broiling is the style of _cuisine_ most resorted to.
+
+The turkeys are plucked and singed, the venison and bear meat cut into
+collops, and soon two score pieces are sputtering in the flames of
+half-a-dozen bivouac fires, while the horses, unbridled, are led out
+upon their lariats, and given to the grass.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIXTY.
+
+CROSS-QUESTIONING.
+
+While the Rangers are preparing for their Homeric repast, a group
+gathered in front of the jacal is occupied with an affair altogether
+different.
+
+The individuals most conspicuous in it are the Texan captain, the guide
+Cully, Walt Wilder, and the young Kentuckian, though several besides
+take part in the conference.
+
+Two others are concerned in it, though not forming figures in the group.
+They are some paces apart, lying on the grass, both bound.  These are
+the traitor Manuel and the renegade Barbato.
+
+Both Indian and Mexican appear terribly cowed and crestfallen, for both
+feel themselves in what Cully or Walt Wilder would call a "bad fix."
+They are, in truth, in a dangerous predicament; for, now that Walt and
+the Kentuckian have turned up alive, what with the story they have to
+tell, added to that already known to the Rangers--comparing notes
+between the two parties--new light is let in, floods of it, falling upon
+spots hitherto dark, and clearing up points confused and obscure.  The
+two culprits are again cross-examined, and, with pistols held to their
+heads, forced to still further confession.
+
+The peon repeats what he has already told, without adding much, not
+having much to add.  With the renegade it is different.  He has kept
+much back concerning the part played by Uraga and his lieutenant in the
+affair of the destroyed waggon train.
+
+But with Hamersley, who speaks his own native tongue, now
+cross-questioning him, and Walt Wilder to extract his testimony by the
+persuasive influence of a knife-blade glistening in his eyes, he goes
+further, and admits the unnatural confederation that existed between the
+white and red robbers--the Mexican colonel and Comanche chief.  In
+short, to save his life, he makes a much cleaner breast of it than
+before, this time only keeping back his own special guiltiness in being
+their willing go-between.
+
+While he is repeating his confession, all the other Rangers gather
+around the group to listen to him.  They stand silent, with bated breath
+and brows contracted.
+
+When at length they become possessed of the tale in all its diabolical
+atrocity, all its completeness, their anger, already excited, become
+almost ungovernable; and it is as much as their captain can do to
+restrain them from at once starting in pursuit.  Some fling their spits
+in the fire with the meat upon them still untouched; others drop the
+pieces roasted and partly eaten; most demanding to be led on.
+
+The counsels of the more prudent prevail; and again tranquillised, they
+recover the morsels of meat and continue their repast.
+
+Not long, till they have reason to regret the delay and deem the
+prudence misplaced.  Though this arises not from any mistake on the part
+of their counsellors, but from a circumstance entirely accidental.
+
+While they are still in the midst of their meal, the sky, all day long
+of cerulean clearness, becomes suddenly clouded.  Not as this term is
+understood in the ordinary sense, but absolutely black, as if the sun
+were instantly eclipsed, or had dropped altogether out of the firmament.
+Scarce ten minutes after its commencement the obscurity has reached
+completeness--that of a total solar eclipse or as in a starless night.
+
+Though troubled at the change, none of the Rangers are dismayed by it,
+or even surprised.  The old prairie men are the least astonished, since
+they know what it means.  At the first portentous sign Cully is heard
+crying out,--
+
+"A hurricane!--A norther!"
+
+Wat Wilder has observed it at the same time, and confirms the
+prognostic.  This is before any of the others have noticed aught
+peculiar in the aspect of the sky, and when there is just the selvedge
+of a cloud seen above the cliff.
+
+All Texans understand the significance of the word "norther"--a storm or
+tornado, usually preceded by a hot, stifling atmosphere, with drifting
+dust, accompanied by sheet or forked lightning and claps of terrific
+thunder, followed by wind and rain, sometimes hail or sleet, as if the
+sluices of heaven were drawn open, ending in a continued blast of more
+regular direction, but chill as though coming direct from the Arctic
+regions.
+
+In less than ten minutes after its first sign, the tempest is around
+them.  Down into the valley pours the dust, swept from the surface of
+the upper plain, along with it the leaves and stalks of the wild
+wormwood, with other weeds of the desert.  Simultaneously the wind, at
+first in low sighs, like the sound of a distant sea; then roaring
+against the rocks, and swooping down among the trees, whose branches go
+crashing before its blast.  Then succeed lightning, thunder, and rain--
+the last falling, not in drops, but in sheets, as if spilled from a
+spout.
+
+For shelter the Rangers rush inside the ranche, leaving their horses to
+take care of themselves.  The latter stand cowering under the trees,
+neighing with affright--the mules among them giving vent to their
+plaintive hinney.  There are dogs, too, that howl and bark, with other
+sounds that come from farther off--from the wild denizens of the
+wilderness; cries of the cougar in contralto, wolf-barkings in
+mezzo-soprano, screaming of eagles in shrill treble, snorting of bears
+in basso, and hooting of scared owls in lugubrious tone, to be likened
+only to the wailing of agonised spirits in Purgatory.
+
+Crowded within the hut, so thickly as to have scarce standing room, the
+Rangers wait for the calming of the tempest.  They submit with greater
+resignation, knowing it will not long continue.  It is far from being
+their first experience of a "norther."
+
+The only thought that troubles them is the delay--being hindered from
+setting forth on the pursuit.  True, the party to be pursued will be
+stayed by the same obstruction.  The soldiers will have to halt during
+the continuance of the storm, so that the distance between will remain
+the same.
+
+But then their tracks will be obliterated--every vestige of them.  The
+wind, the rain, and dust will do this.  How is their trail to be taken
+up?  "That will be easy enough," says one, whose self-esteem is greater
+than his prairie experience.  He adds: "As they're going due west, we
+can't make any mistake by steering the same way."
+
+"How little he knows about it!" is the muttered remark exchanged between
+Wilder and Cully.  For they know that the deflection of a single point
+upon the prairies--above all, upon the Staked Plain--will leave the
+traveller, like a ship at sea without chart or compass, to steer by
+guesswork, or go drifting at sheer chance.
+
+To most, the consoling thought is that the Mexicans will halt near, and
+stay till the storm is over.  They have some baggage--a tent or two,
+with other camp equipage.  This is learnt from the Indian; and
+Hamersley, as also Wilder, have themselves made note of it.
+
+To the returning soldiers there can be no great reason for haste, and
+they will not likely resume their march till the sky is quite clear.
+Therefore they will gain nothing in distance.
+
+Satisfied by such assurance given by the sager ones of the party, the
+Rangers remain inside the hut, on the roof of which the rain dashes
+down, without experiencing any keen pangs of impatience.  Some of them
+even jest--their jokes having allusion to the close quarters in which
+they are packed, and other like trifles incidental to the situation.
+
+Walt Wilder for a while gives way to this humour.  Whatever may be the
+danger of Don Valerian and the others, he does not believe his
+sweetheart much exposed.  The little brown-skinned damsel is not in the
+proscribed list; and the ex-Ranger, strong in the confidence of having
+her heart, with the promise of her hand, has less reason to be
+apprehensive about the consequences.  Besides, he is now in the midst of
+his former associates, and the exchange of new histories and old
+reminiscences is sufficient to fill up the time, and keep him from
+yielding to impatient longing.
+
+Of all Hamersley alone is unhappy.  Despite the assurances spoken, the
+hopes felt, there is yet apprehension for the future.  The position,
+however, is endurable, and only passes this point as a thought comes
+into his mind--a memory that flashes across his brain, as if a bullet
+had struck him between the temples.
+
+It causes him to spring suddenly to his feet, for he has been seated, at
+the same time wringing from him a cry of peculiar signification.
+
+"What is it, Mr Hamersley?" asks the Ranger Captain, who is close by
+his side.
+
+"My God!" exclaims the Kentuckian.  "I'd forgotten.  We must be off at
+once, or we shall be too late--too late!"
+
+Saying this, he makes a dash for the door, hurtling his way through the
+crowd close standing between.
+
+The Rangers regard him with glances of astonishment, and doubts about
+his sanity.  Some of them actually think he has gone mad!
+
+One alone understands him--Walt Wilder; though he, too, seems demented.
+With like incoherent speech and frantic gesture, he follows Hamersley to
+the door.
+
+Both rush outside; as they do so calling back, "Come on! come on!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIXTY ONE.
+
+INTO THE STORM.
+
+Lightning flashes, thunder rolls, wind bellows, and rain pours down in
+sheets, as if from sluices; for the storm is still raging as furiously
+as ever.  Into it have rushed the two, regardless of all.
+
+The Texans are astounded--for a time some of them still believing both
+men mad.  But soon it is seen they are acting with method, making
+straight for the horses, while shouting and gesticulating for the
+Rangers to come after.
+
+These do not need either the shouts or signs to be repeated.  Walt's old
+comrades know he must have reason, and, disregarding the tempest, they
+strike out after.  Their example is electric, and in ten seconds the
+jacal is empty.
+
+In ten more they are among their horses, drawing in the trail-ropes and
+bridling them.
+
+Before they can get into their saddles they are made aware of what it is
+all about.
+
+Hamersley and Walt, already mounted and waiting, make known to the
+Ranger captain the cause of their hurried action, apparently so
+eccentric.  A few words suffice.
+
+"The way out," says the Kentuckian, "is up yonder ravine, along the bed
+of the stream that runs through.  When it rains as it's doing now, then
+the water suddenly rises and fills up the channel, leaving no room, no
+road.  If we don't get out quick we may be kept here for days."
+
+"Yis, boys!" adds Wilder, "we've got to climb the stairs right smart,
+rain or shine, storm or no storm.  Hyar's one off for the upper storey,
+fast as his critter kin carry him."
+
+While speaking, he jobs his heels against the ribs of his horse--for he
+is now mounted on one, as also Hamersley--supernumeraries of the Texan
+troop.  Then, dashing off, with the Kentuckian by his side, they are
+soon under the trees and out of sight.  Not of the Rangers, who,
+themselves now in the saddle, spur after in straggling line, riding at
+top speed.
+
+Once again the place is deserted, for, despite their precipitate
+leave-taking, the Texans have carried the prisoners along with them.  No
+living thing remains by the abandoned dwelling.  The only sign of human
+occupation is the smoke that ascends through its kitchen chimney, and
+from the camp fires outside, these gradually getting extinguished by the
+downpour.
+
+Still the lightning flashes, the thunder rolls, the wind bellows, and
+the rain pours down as from dishes.  But not to deter the Texans, who,
+drenched to their shirts, continue to ride rapidly on up the valley
+road.  There is in reality no road, only a trail made by wild animals,
+occasionally trodden by the domesticated ones belonging to Colonel
+Miranda; later still by Uraga's lancers.
+
+Soaked by the rain, it has become a bed of mud, into which the horses of
+the Rangers sink to their saddle girths, greatly impeding their
+progress.  Whip and spur as they may, they make but slow time.  The
+animals baulk, plunge, stumble, some going headforemost into the mire,
+others striking their shoulders against the thick-standing trees, doing
+damage to themselves and their riders.  For with the norther still
+clouding the sky, it is almost dark as night.
+
+Other dangers assail them from falling trees.  Some go down bodily
+before the blast, while from others great branches are broken off by the
+wind, and strike crashing across the path.  One comes near crushing half
+a dozen horsemen under its broad, spreading avalanche of boughs.
+
+Notwithstanding all, they struggle on fearlessly, and fast as they can,
+Hamersley and Wilder at their head, Haynes, Cully, and the best mounted
+of the troop close following.  Walt and the Kentuckian well know the
+way.  Otherwise, in the buffeting of that terrible storm, they might
+fail to find it.
+
+They succeed in keeping it, on to the head of the valley, where the
+stream comes in between the cliffs.  A tiny runlet as they last looked
+upon it--a mere brook, pellucid and sparkling as the sand on its bed.
+Now it is a torrent, deep, red and roaring; only white on its surface,
+where the froth sweeps on, clouting the cliffs on each side.  Against
+these it has risen quite six feet, and still creeps upward.  It has
+filled the channel from side to side, leaving not an inch of roadway
+between the river and rock.
+
+To wade it would be impossible; to attempt swimming it destruction.  The
+staunchest steed could not stem its surges.  Even the huge river-horse
+of Africa would be swept off his feet and tossed to the surface like one
+of its froth-flakes.
+
+Arriving on its edge, Hamersley sees this at a glance.  As he checks up
+his horse, the exclamation that leaps from his lips more resembles the
+anguished cry of a man struggling in the torrent than one seated safely
+in a saddle on its bank.
+
+After it, he gives utterance to two words in sad despairing tone, twice
+repeated,--
+
+"Too late--too late!"
+
+Again repeated by Walt Wilder, and twenty times again by a score of the
+Rangers who have ridden up, and reined their horses crowdingly behind.
+
+There is no response save echo from the rocks, scarce audible through
+the hoarse sough of the swollen surging stream, that rolls relentlessly
+by, seeming to say, as in scorn, "Ford me! swim across me if you can!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIXTY TWO.
+
+A SHORT SHRIFT.
+
+Difficult--indeed, impossible--for pen to describe the scene consequent
+upon the arrival of the Rangers by the banks of the swollen stream, and
+finding it unfordable.
+
+Imagine a man who has secured passage by a ship bound for some far-off
+foreign land, and delayed by some trifling affair, comes upon the pier
+to see the hawser cast off, the plank drawn ashore, the sails spread,
+himself left hopelessly behind!
+
+His chagrin might be equal to that felt by the Texans, but slight
+compared with what harrows the hearts of Hamersley and Walt Wilder.  To
+symbolise theirs, it must be a man missing his ship homeward bound, with
+sweetheart, wife, child awaiting him at the end of the voyage, and in a
+port from which vessels take departure but "few and far between."
+
+These two, better than any of the Texans, understand the obstruction
+that has arisen, in the same proportion as they are aggrieved by it.
+Too well do they comprehend its fatal import.  Not hours, but whole
+days, may elapse before the flood subsides, the stream can be forded,
+the ravine ascended, and the pursuit continued.
+
+Hours--days!  A single day--an hour--may seal the fate of those dear to
+them.  The hearts of both are sad, their bosoms racked with anguish, as
+they sit in their saddles with eyes bent on the turbid stream, which
+cruelly forbids fording it.
+
+In different degree and from a different cause the Texans also suffer.
+Some only disappointment, but others real chagrin.  These last men,
+whose lives have been spent fighting their Mexican foemen, hating them
+from the bottom of their hearts.  They are those who knew the
+unfortunate Fanning and the lamented Bowie, who gave his name to their
+knives; some of themselves having escaped from the red massacre of
+Goliad and the savage butchery of the Alamo.
+
+Ever since they have been practising the _lex talionis_--seeking
+retaliation, and oft-times finding it.  Perhaps too often wreaking their
+vengeance on victims that might be innocent.  Now that guilty ones--real
+Mexican soldiers in uniform, such as ruthlessly speared and shot down
+their countrymen at Goliad and San Antonio--now that a whole troop of
+these have but the hour before been within reach--almost striking
+distance--it is afflicting, maddening, to think they may escape.
+
+And the more reflecting on the reason, so slight and accidental--a
+shower of rain swelling a tiny stream.  For all this, staying their
+pursuit as effectively as if a sea of fire separated them from the foe,
+so despised and detested.
+
+The lightning still flashes, the thunder rolls, the wind bellows, and
+the rain pours down.
+
+No use staying any longer by the side of the swollen stream, to be
+tantalised by its rapid, rushing current, and mocked by its foam-flakes
+dancing merrily along.
+
+Rather return to the forsaken ranche, and avail themselves of such
+shelter as it may afford.
+
+In short, there seems no alternative; and, yielding to the necessity,
+they rein round, and commence the backward march, every eye glancing
+gloomily, every brow overcast.
+
+They are all disappointed, most of them surly as bears that had been
+shot in the head, and have scratched the place to a sore.  They are just
+in the humour to kill anyone, or anything, that should chance in their
+way.
+
+But there is no one, and nothing; and, in the absence of an object to
+spend their spite upon, some counsel wreaking it on their captives--the
+traitor and renegade.
+
+Never during life were these two men nearer their end.  To all
+appearance, in ten minutes more both will be dangling at the end of a
+rope suspended from a limb of a tree.
+
+They are saved by a circumstance for them at least lucky, if unfortunate
+for some others.
+
+Just as a half-score of the Rangers have clumped together under a
+spreading pecan-tree, intending to hang them upon one of its branches, a
+horse is heard to neigh.  Not one of their own, but an animal some way
+off the track, amid the trees.  The hail is at once responded to by the
+steeds they are bestriding; and is promptly re-answered, not by one
+horse, but three neighing simultaneously.
+
+A strange thing this, that calls for explanation.  What horses can be
+there, save their own?  And none of the Rangers have ridden in the
+direction whence the "whighering" proceeds.
+
+A dozen of them do so now; before they have gone far, finding three
+horses standing under the shadow of a large live oak, with three men
+mounted on their backs, who endeavour to keep concealed behind its broad
+buttressed trunk.
+
+In vain.  Guided by the repeated neighing and continuous tramp of their
+horses, the Rangers ride up, close around, and capture them.
+
+Led out into the light, the Texans see before them three men in soldier
+garb--the uniform of Mexican lancers.  It is the corporal squad sent
+back by Uraga to bring on the truant traitor.
+
+Of their errand the Rangers know nought, and nothing care.  Enough that
+three of their hated foemen are in their hands, their hostility
+intensified by the events of the hour.
+
+No more fuel is needed to fire them up.  Their vengeance demands a
+victim, and three have offered ready to hand.
+
+As they ride back to the road, they leave behind them a tableau, telling
+of a spectacle just passed--one having a frightful finale.  From a large
+limb of the live oak, extending horizontally, hang three men, the
+Mexican lancers.  They are suspended by the neck, dangling, dead!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIXTY THREE.
+
+A SPLIT TRAIL.
+
+The Texans ride on to the ranche.  They still chafe at being thwarted of
+a vengeance; by every man of them keenly felt, after learning the
+criminality of the Lancer Colonel.  Such unheard of atrocity could not
+help kindling within their breasts indignation of the deepest kind.
+
+The three soldiers strung up to the trees have been its victims.
+
+But this episode, instead of appeasing the executioners, has only roused
+them, as tigers who have tasted blood hindered from banqueting on flesh.
+
+They quite comprehend the position in which the norther has placed them.
+On the way Hamersley and Wilder, most discomforted of all, have made
+them aware of it.  The swollen stream will prevent egress from the
+valley till it subsides.
+
+There is no outlet save above and below, and both these are now
+effectually closed, shutting them up as in a strong-walled prison.  On
+each side the precipice is unscalable.  Even if men might ascend, horses
+could not be taken along; and on such a chase it would be hopeless for
+them to set out afoot.
+
+But men could not go up the cliff.
+
+"A cat kedn't climb it," says Walt, who during his sojourn in the valley
+has explored every inch of it.  "We've got to stay hyar till the flood
+falls.  I reckon no one kin be sorrier to say so than this chile.  But
+thar's no help for 't."
+
+"Till the flood falls?  When will that be?"
+
+No one can answer this, not even Wilder himself.  And with clouded
+brows, sullen, dispirited, they return to the jacal.
+
+Two days they stay there, chafing with angry impatience.  In their anger
+they are ready for the most perilous enterprise.  But, although bitterly
+cursing the sinister chance that hinders pursuit, deeming each hour a
+day, they can do nought save wait till the swollen stream subsides.
+
+They watch it with eager solicitude, constantly going to the bank to
+examine it, as the captain of a ship consults his weather-glass to take
+steps for the safety of his vessel.  All the time one or another is
+riding to, or returning from, the head of the valley, to bring back
+report of how the subsidence progresses.
+
+And long ere the stream has returned to its regular channel, they plunge
+their horses into it, breasting a current that almost sweeps them off
+their feet.  But the Texan horses are strong, as their riders are
+skilful; the obstacle is surmounted, and the Rangers at length escape
+from their prolonged and irksome imprisonment.
+
+It is mid-day, as filing up the pass, they reach the higher level of the
+Llano.  Not many moments do they remain there; only long enough for the
+rear files to get out of the gorge, when those in front move forward
+across the plain, guided by the two best trackers in Texas, Nat Cully
+and Walt Wilder.
+
+At first there is no following of a trail, since there is none visible.
+Wind, rain, and drifted dust have obliterated every mark made by the
+returning soldiers.  Not a sign is left to show the pursuers the path
+Uraga's troop has taken.
+
+They know it should be westward, and strike out without waiting to look
+for tracks.
+
+For the first ten or twelve miles they ride at a rapid rate, often going
+in a gallop.  Their horses, rested and fresh, enable them to do so.
+They are only stayed in their pace by the necessity of keeping a
+straight course--not so easy upon a treeless plain, when the sun is not
+visible in the sky.  Unluckily for them, the day is cloudy, which
+renders it more difficult.  Still, with the twin buttes behind--so long
+as these are in sight they keep their course with certainty; then, as
+their summits sink below the level of the plain, another landmark looms
+up ahead, well known by Walt Wilder and Hamersley.  It is the black-jack
+grove where, two days before, they made their midday meal.
+
+The Rangers ride towards it, with the intention also to make a short
+halt there and snatch a scrap from their haversacks.
+
+When upon its edge, before entering among the trees, they see that which
+decides them to stay even less time than intended--the hoof-prints of
+half a hundred horses!
+
+Going inside the copse, they observe other signs that speak of an
+encampment.  Reading these with care, they can tell that it has not long
+been broken up.  The ashes of the bivouac fires are scarce cold, while
+the hoof-marks of the horses show fresh on the desert dust, for the time
+converted into mud.  Wilder and Cully declare that but one day can have
+passed since the lancers parted from the spot; for there is no question
+as to who have been bivouacking among the black-jacks.
+
+A day--only a day!  It will take full five before the soldiers can cross
+the Sierras and enter the valley of the Del Norte.  There may still be a
+chance of overtaking them.  All the likelier, since, cumbered with their
+captives, and not knowing they are pursued, they may be proceeding at a
+leisurely pace.
+
+Cheered by this hope, and freshly stimulated, the Texans do not even
+dismount, but, spurring forth upon the plain, again ride rapidly on,
+munching a mouthful as they go.
+
+They are no longer delayed by any doubt as to course.  The trail of the
+lancer troop is now easily discernible, made since the storm passed
+over.  Any one of the Rangers could follow it in a fast gallop.
+
+At this pace they all go, only at intervals drawing in to a walk, to
+breathe their blown steeds for a fresh spurt.
+
+Even after night has descended they continue on, a clear moonlight
+enabling them to lift the trail.
+
+As next morning's sun breaks over the Llano Estacado they descend its
+western slope into the valley of the Rio Pecos.
+
+Traversing its bottom, of no great breadth, they reach the crossing of
+the old Spanish trail, from Santa Fe to San Antonio de Bejar.
+
+Fording the stream, on its western bank, they discover signs which cause
+them to come to a halt, for some time perplexing them.  Nothing more
+than the tracks of the troop they have been all the while pursuing,
+which entered the river on its left side.  Now on its right they are
+seen the same, up the sloping causeway of the bank.  But on reaching the
+bottom, a little aback from the water's edge, the trail splits into two
+distinct ramifications, one continuing westward towards the Sierras, the
+other turning north along the stream.  The first shows the hoof-marks of
+nigh forty horses, the second only ten or twelve.
+
+Unquestionably the Mexican colonel had here divided his troop, the main
+body proceeding due west, the detachment striking up stream.
+
+The route taken by this last would be the old Spanish road for Santa Fe,
+the first party proceeding on to Albuquerque.
+
+For a time the pursuing Texans are at fault, as foxhounds by a fence,
+over which Reynard has doubled back to mislead them.  They have halted
+at the bifurcation of the trails, and sit in their saddles, considering
+which of the two they should take.
+
+Not all remain mounted.  Cully and Wilder have flung themselves to the
+ground, and, in bent attitudes, with eyes close to the surface, are
+scanning the hoof-marks of the Mexican horses.
+
+The others debate which of the two troops they ought to take after, or
+whether they should themselves separate and pursue both.  This course is
+opposed by a majority, and it is at length almost decided to continue on
+after the main body, which, naturally enough, they suppose to have Uraga
+at its head, with the captives in keeping.
+
+In the midst of their deliberations a shout calls the attention of all,
+concentrating it on Walt Wilder.  For it is he who has uttered the cry.
+The ex-Ranger is seen upon his knees, his great body bent forward, with
+his chin almost touching the ground.  His eyes are upon the hoof-marks
+of a horse--one of those that went off with the smaller detachment along
+the river's bank.
+
+That he has identified the track is evident from the speech succeeding
+his ejaculation.
+
+"Yur hoss, Hamersley!  Hyar's his futprint, sure.  An', as he's rud by
+Urager, the scoundrel's goed this way to a sartinty.  Eqwally sartin,
+he's tuk the captives along wi' him."
+
+On hearing their old comrade declare his prognosis, the Rangers wheel
+their horses and ride towards him.
+
+Before reaching the spot where he is still prospecting, they see him
+give a sudden spring forward, like a frog leaping over meadow sward,
+then pause again, scrutinising a track.
+
+A second examination, similar to the first, tells of another discovery.
+In like manner explained, by his speech close following,--
+
+"An' hyar's the track o' the mare--the yeller mustang as war rid by the
+saynorita.  An', durn me, that's the hoof-mark o' the mule as carried my
+Concheter.  Capting Haynes!  Kumrades!  No use botherin' 'bout hyar any
+longer.  Them we want to kum up wi' are goed north 'long this trail as
+leads by the river bank."
+
+Not another word is needed.  The Rangers, keen of apprehension and quick
+to arrive at conclusions, at once perceive the justness of those come to
+by their old comrade.  They make no opposition to his proposal to
+proceed after the smaller party.
+
+Instead, all signify assent; and in ten seconds after they are strung
+out into a long line, going at a gallop, their horses' heads turned
+northward up the right bank of the Rio Pecos.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIXTY FOUR.
+
+A SYLVAN SCENE.
+
+Perhaps no river on all the North American continent is marked with
+interest more romantic than that which attaches to the Rio Grande of
+Mexico.  On its banks has been enacted many a tragic scene--many an
+episode of Indian and border war--from the day when the companions of
+Cortez first unfurled Spain's _pabellon_ till the Lone Star flag of
+Texas, and later still the banner of the Stars and Stripes, became
+mirrored on its waves.
+
+Heading in the far-famed "parks" of the Rocky Mountains, under the name
+of Rio Bravo del Norte, it runs in a due southerly direction between the
+two main ranges of the Mexican "Sierre Madre;" then, breaking through
+the Eastern Cordillera, it bends abruptly, continuing on in a
+south-easterly course till it espouses ocean in the great Mexican Gulf.
+
+Only its lower portion is known as the "Rio Grande;" above it is the
+"Bravo del Norte."
+
+The Pecos is its principal tributary, which, after running through
+several degrees of latitude parallel to the main stream, at length
+unites with it below the great bend.
+
+In many respects the Pecos is itself a peculiar river.  For many hundred
+miles it courses through a wilderness rarely traversed by man, more
+rarely by men claiming to be civilised.  Its banks are only trodden by
+the savage, and by him but when going to or returning from a raid.  For
+this turbid stream is a true river of the desert, having on its left
+side the sterile tract of the Llano Estacado, on its right dry table
+plains that lead up to the Sierras, forming the "divide" between its
+waters and those of the Bravo del Norte.
+
+On the side of the Staked Plain the Pecos receives but few affluents,
+and these of insignificant character.  From the Sierras, however,
+several streams run into it through channels deeply cut into the plain,
+their beds being often hundreds of feet below its level.  While the
+plateau above is often arid and treeless, the bottom lands of these
+tributaries show a rich luxuriant vegetation, here and there expanding
+into park-like meadows, with groves and copses interspersed.
+
+On the edge of one of these affluents, known as the _Arroyo Alamo_
+(Anglice "Cottonwood Creek"), two tents are seen standing--one a square
+marquee, the other a "single pole," of the ordinary conical shape.
+
+Near by a half score of soldiers are grouped around a bivouac fire, some
+broiling bits of meat on sapling spits, others smoking corn-husk
+cigarettes, all gaily chatting.  One is some fifty paces apart, under a
+spreading tree, keeping guard over two prisoners, who, with legs lashed
+and hands pinioned, lie prostrate upon the ground.
+
+As the soldiers are in the uniform of Mexican lancers, it is needless to
+say they belong to the troop of Colonel Uraga.  Superfluous to add that
+the two prisoners under the tree are Don Valerian Miranda and the
+doctor.
+
+Uraga himself is not visible, nor his adjutant, Roblez.  They are inside
+the conical hut, the square one being occupied by Adela and her maid.
+
+After crossing the Pecos, Uraga separated his troop into two parties.
+For some time he has sent the main body, under command of his alferez,
+direct to Albuquerque, himself and the adjutant turning north with the
+captives and a few files as escort and guard.  Having kept along the
+bank of the Pecos till reaching the Alamo, he turned up the creek, and
+is now _en bivouac_ in its bottom, some ten miles above the confluence
+of the streams.
+
+A pretty spot has he selected for the site of his encampment.  A verdant
+mead, dotted with groves of leafy _alamo_ trees, that reflect their
+shadows upon crystal runlets silently coursing beneath, suddenly
+flashing into the open light like a band of silver lace as it bisects a
+glade green with _gramma_ grass.  A landscape not all woodland or
+meadow, but having also a mountain aspect, for the basaltic cliffs that
+on both sides bound the valley bottom rise hundreds of feet high,
+standing scarce two hundred yards apart, grimly frowning at each other,
+like giant warriors about to begin battle, while the tall stems of the
+_pitahaya_ projecting above might be likened to poised spears.
+
+It is a scene at once soft and sublime--an Eden of angels beset by a
+serried phalanx of fiends; below, sweetly smiling; above, darkly
+frowning and weirdly picturesque.  A wilderness, with all its charms,
+uninhabited; no house in sight; no domestic hearth or chimney towering
+over it; no smoke, save that curling aloft from the fire lately kindled
+in the soldiers' camp.  Beasts and birds are its only habitual denizens;
+its groves the chosen perching place of sweet songsters; its openings
+the range of the prong-horn antelope and black-tailed deer; while
+soaring above, or seated on prominent points of the precipice, may be
+seen the _caracara_, the buzzard, and bald-headed eagle.
+
+Uraga has pitched his tents in an open glade of about ten acres in
+superficial extent, and nearly circular in shape, lying within the
+embrace of an umbrageous wood, the trees being mostly cotton woods of
+large dimensions.  Through its midst the streamlet meanders above,
+issuing out of the timber, and below again entering it.
+
+On one side the bluffs are visible, rising darkly above the tree-tops,
+and in the concavity underneath stand the tents, close to the timber
+edge, though a hundred paces apart from each other.  The troop horses,
+secured by their trail-ropes, are browsing by the bank of the stream;
+and above, perched upon the summit of the cliff, a flock of black
+vultures sun themselves with out-spread wings, now and then uttering an
+ominous croak as they crane their necks to scan what is passing
+underneath.
+
+Had Uraga been influenced by a sense of sylvan beauty, he could not have
+chosen a spot more suitable for his camping-place.
+
+Scenic effect has nought to do with his halting there.  On the contrary,
+he has turned up the Alamo, and is bivouacking on its bank, for a
+purpose so atrocious that no one would give credit to it unacquainted
+with the military life of Mexico in the days of the Dictator Don Antonio
+Lopez de Santa Anna.  This purpose is declared in a dialogue between the
+lancer colonel and his lieutenant, occurring inside the conical tent
+shortly after its being set up.
+
+But before shadowing the bright scene we have painted by thoughts of the
+dark scheme so disclosed, let us seek society of a gentler kind.  We
+shall find it in the marquee set apart for Adela Miranda and her maid.
+
+It scarce needs to say that a change is observable in the appearance of
+the lady.  Her dress is travel-stained, bedraggled by dust and rain; her
+hair, escaped from its coif, hangs dishevelled; her cheeks show the lily
+where but roses have hitherto bloomed.  She is sad, drooping,
+despondent.
+
+The Indian damsel seems to suffer less from her captivity, having less
+to afflict her--no dread of that terrible calamity which, like an
+incubus, broods upon the mind of her mistress.
+
+In the conversation passing between them Conchita is the comforter.
+
+"Don't grieve so, senorita," she says, "I'm sure it will be all right
+yet.  Something whispers me it will.  It may be the good Virgin--bless
+her!  I heard one of the soldiers say they're taking us to Santa Fe, and
+that Don Valerian will be tried by a court martial--I think that's what
+he called it.  Well, what of it?  You know well he hasn't done anything
+for which they can condemn him to death--unless they downright
+assassinate him.  They dare not do that, tyrants as they are."
+
+At the words "assassinate him," the young lady gives a start.  It is
+just that which is making her so sad.  Too well she knows the man into
+whose hands they have unfortunately fallen.  She remembers his design,
+once nigh succeeding, only frustrated by that hurried flight from their
+home.  Is it likely the fiend will be contented to take her brother back
+and trust to the decision of a legal tribunal, civil or military?  She
+cannot believe it; but shudders as she reflects upon what is before
+them.
+
+"Besides," pursues Conchita, in her consolatory strain, "your gallant
+Francisco and my big, brave Gualtero have gone before us.  They'll be in
+Albuquerque when we get there, and will be sure to hear of our arrival.
+Trust them for doing something to save Don Valerian."
+
+"No, no," despondingly answers Adela, "they can do nothing for my
+brother.  That is beyond their power, even if he should ever reach
+there.  I fear he never will--perhaps, none of us."
+
+"_Santissima_!  What do you mean, senorita?  Surely these men will not
+murder us on the way?"
+
+"They are capable of doing that--anything.  Ah!  Conchita, you do not
+know them.  I am in as much danger as my brother, for I shall choose
+death rather than--"
+
+She forbears speaking the word that would explain her terrible
+apprehension.  Without waiting for it, Conchita rejoins--
+
+"If they kill you, they may do the same with me.  Dear _duena_, I'm
+ready to die with you."
+
+The _duena_, deeply affected by this proffer of devotion, flings her
+white arms around the neck of her brown-skinned maid, and imprints upon
+her brow a kiss, speaking heartfelt gratitude.
+
+For a time the two remain enlocked in each other's arms, murmuring words
+of mutual consolation.  Love levels all ranks, but not more than
+misery--perhaps not so much.  In the hour of despair there is no
+difference between prince and peasant, between the high-born dame and
+the lowly damsel accustomed to serve her caprices and wait upon her
+wishes.
+
+Adela Miranda has in her veins the purest _sangre azul_ of Andalusia.
+Her ancestors came to New Spain among the proud _conquistadores_; while
+those of Conchita, at least on the mother's side, were of the race
+conquered, outraged, and humiliated.
+
+No thought of ancestral hostility, no pride of high lineage on one side,
+or shame of low birth on the other, as the two girls stand inside the
+tent with arms entwined, endeavouring to cheer one another.
+
+Under the dread of a common danger, the white _doncella_ and the dusky
+damsel forget the difference in the colour of their skins; and for the
+first time feel themselves sisters in the true sisterhood of humanity.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIXTY FIVE.
+
+TWO SCOUNDRELS IN COUNCIL.
+
+Simultaneous with the scene in the square marquee a dialogue is taking
+place within the conical tent, the speakers being Uraga and Roblez.
+
+The colonel is reclining on a bearskin, spread over the thick sward of
+grass, which forms a soft couch underneath.  The lieutenant sits on a
+camp-stool beside.
+
+Both are smoking; while from a canteen and two cups, resting upon the
+top of a bullock trunk, comes a perfume which tells they have also been
+indulging in a drink.
+
+Uraga is thoughtful and silent; Roblez patiently waiting for him to
+speak.  The adjutant has but late entered the tent and delivered his
+report about the pitching of the camp, the arrangements of which he has
+been superintending.
+
+"You've stationed a look-out as I directed?" the Colonel inquires, after
+a long silence.
+
+"I have."
+
+"I hope you've placed him so that he can command a good view of the
+valley below?"
+
+"He's on a spur of the cliff, and can see full five miles down stream.
+May I ask, colonel, whom we may expect to come that way?  Not pursuers,
+I take it?"
+
+Uraga does not make immediate reply.  There is evidently something in
+his thoughts he hesitates to communicate to his subordinate.  The answer
+he at length vouchsafes is evasive.
+
+"Whom may we expect?  You forget those fellows left behind on the Llano.
+The corporal and two men, whether they've found the Indian or not, will
+make all haste after us.  Fear of falling in with some party of Apaches
+will stimulate their speed.  I wonder why they haven't got up long ago.
+Something strange about that."
+
+"No doubt the storm has detained them."
+
+"Do you think it's been that, ayadante?"
+
+"I can't think of anything else, colonel.  Anyhow, they wouldn't be
+likely to come here, but go on straight to Albuquerque.  The corporal is
+a skilled _rastrero_, and, reaching the place where the troop separated,
+he'd be pretty sure to follow the trail of the larger party.  All the
+more from his knowing it the safer one, so far as savages are
+concerned."
+
+"I hope he has done so.  We don't want him here."
+
+Saying this, Uraga resumes his thoughtful attitude and silently puffs
+away at his cigar, apparently watching the smoke as it curls up and
+spreads against the canvas.
+
+Roblez, who appeared anxious about something, after a time again essays
+speech.  He puts the interrogatory,--
+
+"How long are we to remain here?"
+
+"That will depend on--"
+
+Uraga does not complete the response--at least not till after taking
+several whiffs at his weed.
+
+"On what?" asks the impatient subordinate.
+
+"Many matters--circumstances, events, coincidences."
+
+"May I know what they are.  You promised to tell me, colonel."
+
+"I did--in time.  It has not yet come.  One thing I may now make known.
+When we leave this camping-place we shall take no prisoners along with
+us."
+
+"You intend setting them free?"  The question is asked, not with any
+idea that this is Uraga's design, but to draw out the explanation.
+
+"Free of all cares in this world, whatever may be their troubles in the
+next."
+
+"They are to die, then?"
+
+"They are to die."
+
+"You mean only the men--Don Valerian and the doctor?"
+
+"What a ruffian you are, Roblez!  By your question you must take me for
+the same--a sanguinary savage.  I'm not so bloodthirsty as to think of
+killing women, much less one so sweet as the Senorita Miranda.  Men
+don't desire the deaths of their own wives--at least, not till after the
+honeymoon.  The Dona Adela is to be mine--shall, and must!"
+
+"I am aware that is your wish, and as things stand you have a fair
+chance of obtaining it.  You can have her without spilling her brother's
+blood.  Excuse me, colonel, but I can see no reason why he should not be
+let live, at least till we take him to Santa Fe, There a prison will
+hold him safe, and a court-martial can be called, which, with the spirit
+just now abroad, will condemn him in one day, and execute him on the
+morning of the next.  That would keep you clear from all suspicion of
+over-haste, which may attach to you if you take the thing into your own
+hands here."
+
+"Bah! you talk like a child, teniente!  The security of a prison in New
+Mexico, or the chances of a prisoner being condemned, far less executed,
+are things merely imaginary.  All the more now that there's some
+probability of a change in the political sky.  Clouds have shown
+themselves on the horizon at the capital--talk that our good friend
+Gameleg is going out again.  Before the storm comes I for one intend
+making myself secure.  As the husband of Adela Miranda, owning all that
+belongs to her brother, and which will be hers after his death, I shall
+care but little who presides in the Halls of the Moctezumas.
+Priest-party or patriots, 'twill be all the same to me."
+
+"Why not become her husband and let the brother live?"
+
+"Why?  Because that cannot be."
+
+"I don't see any reason against it.  Both are in your power.  You may
+easily make terms."
+
+Uraga, impressed with the observation, remains for a while silent,
+considering.  To aid reflection he smokes harder than ever.
+
+Resuming speech, he asks,--
+
+"How do you counsel?"
+
+"As I've said, colonel.  Make terms with Miranda.  Knowing his life to
+be in your hands, he will listen to reason.  Extract from him a
+promise--an oath, if need be--that he will consent to his sister
+becoming your wife; at the same time settling a portion of his property
+on the newly married pair.  It's big enough to afford all of you a
+handsome income.  That's what I would do."
+
+"He might promise you here.  What security against breaking his word
+when we get to Albuquerque?"
+
+"No need waiting for Albuquerque to give him the chance.  You seem to
+forget that there are churches between, and priests not over-scrupulous.
+For instance, the cure of Anton Chico, and his reverence who saves
+souls in the pueblita of La Mora.  Either one will make man and wife of
+you and the Senorita Adela without asking question beyond whether you
+can produce coin sufficient to pay the marriage fees.  Disbursing
+freely, you may ensure the ceremonial in spite of all protest, if any
+should arise.  There can be none."
+
+Uraga lights a fresh cigar, and continues smoking, reflecting.  The
+counsel of his subaltern has made an impression on him--put the thing in
+a new light.  After all, what harm in letting Miranda live?  Enough of
+revenge compelling him to consent that his sister shall be the wife of
+one she has scornfully rejected.  If he refuse--if both do so--what
+then?
+
+The interrogatory is addressed to Roblez.
+
+"Your position," answers the adjutant, "will be no worse than now.  You
+can still carry out the design you've hinted at without doing me the
+honour to entrust it to me.  Certainly no harm can arise from trying my
+plan first.  In ten minutes you may ascertain the result."
+
+"I shall try it," exclaims Uraga, springing to his feet and facing
+towards the entrance of the tent.  "You're right, Roblez.  It's a second
+string to the bow I had a thought about.  If it snap, let it.  But if it
+do, before long--aye, before to-morrow's sun shines into our camp--the
+proud beauty may find herself brotherless, her sole chance of protection
+being the arms of Gil Uraga."
+
+Saying this, he pitches away the stump of his cigar, and strides forth
+from the tent, determined to extract from Adela Miranda a promise of
+betrothal, or in lieu of it decree her brother's death.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIXTY SIX.
+
+A BROTHER SORELY TEMPTED.
+
+After stepping forth from the tent Uraga pauses to reflect.  The course
+counselled by Roblez seems reasonable enough.  If he can but force the
+girl's consent, it will not be difficult to get it sealed.  There are
+priests in the frontier pueblitas who will be obedient to a power
+superior to the Church--even in Mexico, that Paradise of padres.  Gold
+will outweigh any scruples about the performance of the marriage
+ceremony, however suspicion! the circumstances under which the intending
+bride and bridegroom may prevent themselves at the altar.  The lancer
+colonel is well aware of this.
+
+But there are other points to be considered before he can proceed
+farther with the affair.  His escort must not know too much.  There are
+ten of them, all thorough cut-throats, and, as such, having a
+fellow-feeling for their commanding officer.  Not one of them but has
+committed crime, and more than one stained his soul with murder.
+Nothing strange for Mexican soldiers under the regime of Santa Anna.
+Not rare even among their officers.
+
+On parting with the main body Uraga selected his escort with an eye to
+sinister contingencies.  They are the sort to assist in any deed of
+blood.  If ordered to shoot or hang the captives they would obey with
+the eagerness of bloodhounds let loose from the leash, rather relishing
+it as cruel sport.
+
+For all, he does not desire to entrust them with the secret of his
+present scheme.
+
+They must not overhear the conversation which he intends holding with
+his captives; and to prevent this a plan easily suggests itself.
+
+"Holla!" he hails a trooper with chevroned sleeves, in authority over
+the others.  "Step this way, _sergente_."
+
+The sergeant advances, and saluting, awaits further speech from the
+colonel.
+
+"Order boots and saddles!" directs the latter.
+
+The order is issued; and the soldiers soon stand by their stirrups ready
+to mount, wondering what duty they are so unexpectedly to be sent upon.
+
+"To horse!" commands the Colonel, vicariously through his
+non-commissioned officer.  "Ride up the creek, and find if there is a
+pass leading out above.  Take all the men with you; only leave Galvez to
+keep guard over the prisoners."
+
+The sergeant, having received these instructions, once more salutes.
+Then, returning to the group of lancers, at some distance off, gives the
+word "Mount!"  The troopers, vaulting into their saddles, ride away from
+the ground, Galvez alone staying behind, who, being a "familiar" with
+his colonel, and more than once his participator in crimes of deepest
+dye, can be trusted to overhear anything.
+
+The movement has not escaped the observation of the two men lying tied
+under the tree.  They cannot divine its meaning, but neither do they
+augur well of it.  Still worse, when Uraga, calling to Galvez to come to
+him, mutters some words in his ear.
+
+Their apprehensions are increased when the sentry returns to them, and,
+unfastening the cord from the doctor's ankles, raises him upon his feet,
+as if to remove him from the spot.
+
+On being asked what it is for, Galvez does not condescend to give an
+answer, except to say in a gruff voice that he has orders to separate
+them.
+
+Taking hold of the doctor's arm, he conducts him to a distance of
+several hundred yards, and, once more laying him along the ground,
+stands over him as before in the attitude of a sentry.  The action is
+suspicious, awe-inspiring--not more to Don Prospero than Miranda
+himself.
+
+The latter is not left long to meditate upon it.  Almost instantly he
+sees the place of his friend occupied by his enemy.  Gil Uraga stands
+beside him.
+
+There is an interval of silence, with only an interchange of glances;
+Don Valerian's defiant, Uraga's triumphant.  But the expression of
+triumph on the part of the latter appears held in check, as if to wait
+some development that may either heighten or curb its display.
+
+Uraga breaks silence--the first speech vouchsafed to his former
+commanding officer since making him a prisoner.
+
+"Senor Miranda," he says, "you will no doubt be wondering why I have
+ordered your fellow-captive to be taken apart from you.  It will be
+explained by my saying that I have words for you I don't wish overheard
+by anyone--not even by your dear friend, Don Prospero."
+
+"What words, Gil Uraga?"
+
+"A proposal I have to make."
+
+Miranda remains silent, awaiting it.
+
+"Let me first make known," continues the ruffian, "though doubtless you
+know it already, that your life is in my power.  If I put a pistol to
+your head and blow out your brains there will be no calling me to
+account.  If there was any danger of that, I could avoid it by giving
+you the benefit of a court-martial.  Your life is forfeit to the state;
+and our military laws, as you are aware, can be stretched just now
+sufficiently to meet your case."
+
+"I am aware of it," rejoins Miranda, his patriotic spirit roused by the
+reflection; "I know the despotism that now rules my unfortunate country.
+It can do anything, without respect for either laws or constitution."
+
+"Just so," assents Uraga; "and for this reason I approach you with my
+proposal."
+
+"Speak it, then.  Proceed, sir, and don't multiply words.  You need not
+fear of their effect.  I am your prisoner, and powerless."
+
+"Since you command me to avoid circumlocution, I shall obey you to the
+letter.  My proposal is that, in exchange for your life--which I have
+the power to take, as also to save--you will give me your sister."
+
+Miranda writhes till the cords fastening his wrists almost cut through
+the skin.  Withal, he is silent; his passion too intense to permit of
+speech.
+
+"Don't mistake me, Don Valerian Miranda," pursues his tormentor, in a
+tone intended to be soothing.  "When I ask you to give me your sister I
+mean it in an honourable sense.  I wish her for my wife; and to save
+your life she will consent to become so, if you only use your influence
+to that end.  She will not be a faithful sister if she do not.  I need
+not tell you that I love her; you know that already.  Accept the
+conditions I offer, and all will be well.  I can even promise you the
+clemency of the State; for my influence in high places is somewhat
+different from what it was when you knew me as your subordinate.  It
+will enable me to obtain free pardon for you."
+
+Miranda still remains silent--long enough to rouse the impatience of him
+who dictates, and tempt the alternative threat already shaping itself on
+his tongue.
+
+"Refuse," he continues, his brow suddenly clouding, while a light of
+sinister significance flashes from his eyes, "Refuse me, and you see not
+another sun.  By that now shining you may take your last look of the
+earth; for this night will certainly be your last on it alive.  Observe
+those vultures on the cliff!  They are whetting their beaks, as if they
+expected a banquet.  They shall have one, on your body, if you reject
+the terms I've offered.  Accept them, Don Valerian Miranda; or before
+to-morrow's sun reaches meridian the birds will be feeding upon your
+flesh, and the wild beasts quarrelling over your bones.  Answer me, and
+without prevarication.  I demand plain speech, yes or no."
+
+"No!" is the monosyllable shouted, almost shrieked, by him so menaced.
+"No!" he repeats; "never shall I consent to that.  I am in your power,
+Gil Uraga.  Put your pistol to my head, blow out my brains, as you say
+you can do with impunity.  Kill me any way you wish, even torture.  It
+could not be more painful than to see you the husband of my sister,
+either by my consent or her own.  You cannot force mine upon such
+disgraceful conditions, nor yet gain her's.  My noble Adela!  She would
+rather see me die, and die along with me."
+
+"Ha! ha!" responded Uraga, in a peal of mocking laughter, mingled with a
+whine of chagrin, "we shall see about that.  Perhaps the senorita may
+not treat my offer quite so slightingly as yourself.  Women are not so
+superbly stupid.  They have a keener comprehension of their own
+interests.  Your sister may better appreciate the honour I am intending
+her.  If not, Heaven help her and you!  She will soon be without a
+brother.  Adios, Don Valerian!  I go to pour speech into softer ears.
+For your own sake, hope--pray--that my proposal may be more favourably
+received."
+
+Saying this, Uraga turns upon his heel and abruptly walks away, leaving
+behind his captive with hands tied and heart in a tumult of anguished
+emotion.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIXTY SEVEN.
+
+A SISTER SORELY TRIED.
+
+The marquee occupied by Adela Miranda and her maid is not visible from
+the spot where her brother lies bound.  The other tent is between, with
+some shrubbery further concealing it.
+
+But from the tenour of his last speech, Don Valerian knows that Uraga
+has gone thither, as also his object.
+
+Chagrined by the denial he has received from the brother, roused to
+recklessness, he resolves on having an answer from the sister,
+point-blank, upon the instant.
+
+With slight ceremony he enters her tent.  Once inside, he mutters a
+request, more like a command, for Conchita to withdraw.  He does this
+with as much grace as the excited state of his feelings permits,
+excusing himself on the plea that he wishes a word with the senorita--
+one he is sure she would not wish to be heard by other ears than her
+own.
+
+Aroused from a despondent attitude, the young lady looks up, her large
+round eyes expressing surprise, anger, apprehension, awe.  The mestiza
+glances towards her mistress for instructions.  The latter hesitates to
+give them.  Only for an instant.  It can serve no purpose to gainsay the
+wishes of one who has full power to enforce them, and whose demeanour
+shows him determined on doing so.
+
+"You can go, Conchita," says her mistress; "I will call you when you are
+wanted."
+
+The girl moves off with evident reluctance, but stops not far from the
+tent.
+
+"Now, Don Gil Uraga," demands the lady, on being left alone with the
+intruder, "what have you to say to me that should not be overheard?"
+
+"Come, senorita!  I pray you will not commence so brusquely.  I approach
+you as a friend, though for some time I may have appeared in the
+character of an enemy.  I hope, however, you'll give me credit for good
+intentions.  I'm sure you will when you know how much I'm distressed by
+the position I'm placed in.  It grieves me that my instructions compel
+such harsh measures towards my two prisoners: but, in truth, I can say
+no discretion has been left me.  I act under an order from
+headquarters."
+
+"Senor," she rejoins, casting upon him a look of scornful incredulity,
+"you have said all this before.  I suppose you had something else to
+speak of."
+
+"And so I have, senorita.  Something of a nature so unpleasant I
+hesitate to tell it, fearing it may sadly shock you."
+
+"You need not.  After what has passed I am not likely to be nervous."
+
+Despite her natural courage, and an effort to appear calm, she trembles,
+as also her voice.  There is an expression on the face of the man that
+bodes sinister risings--some terrible disclosure.
+
+The suspense is too painful to be borne; and in a tone more firm and
+defiant she demands the promised communication.
+
+"Dona Adela Miranda," he rejoins, speaking in a grave, measured voice,
+like a doctor delivering a prognosis of death, "it has been my duty to
+make your brother a prisoner--a painful one, as I have said.  But, alas!
+the part I've already performed is nothing compared with that now
+required of me.  You say you are prepared for a shock.  What I'm going
+to say will cause you one."
+
+She no longer attempts to conceal alarm.  It is now discernible in her
+large, wondering eyes.
+
+"Say it!"
+
+The words drop mechanically from her lips, drawn forth by the intensity
+of her apprehension.
+
+"You are soon to be without a brother!"
+
+"What mean you, senor?"
+
+"Don Valerian dies within the hour."
+
+"You are jesting, sir.  My brother has not been sick?  He is not
+wounded?  Why should he die?"
+
+She speaks hurriedly, and with an incredulous stare at Uraga; while at
+the same time her heaving, palpitating bosom shows she too truly
+believes what he said.
+
+"Don Valerian is not sick," continues the unfeeling wretch, "nor yet has
+he received any wound.  For all this, in less than an hour he must die.
+It is decreed."
+
+"_Madre de Dios_!  You are mocking me.  His death decreed!  By whom?"
+
+"Not by me, I assure you.  The military authorities of the country have
+been his judges, and condemned him long ago, as also Don Prospero.  It
+only needed their capture to have the sentence carried out.  This
+disagreeable duty has been entrusted to me.  My orders at starting were
+to have both shot on the instant of making them captives.  For your
+sake, senorita, I've so far disobeyed the rigorous command--an act which
+may cost me my commission.  Yes, Dona Adela, for your sake."
+
+The tale is preposterous, and might seem to her who hears it a lie, but
+for her knowledge of many similar occurrences in the history of her
+native land, "Cosas de Mexico."  Besides, her own and her brother's
+experience render it but too probable.
+
+"_Dios de mi alma_!" she cries out in the anguish of conviction, "can
+this be true?"
+
+"It is true."
+
+"Colonel Uraga, you will not carry out this cruel sentence!  It is not
+an execution--it is an assassination!  You will not stain your soul with
+murder?"
+
+"I must obey orders."
+
+"My poor brother!  Have mercy!  You can save him?"
+
+"I can."
+
+"You will?  You will?"
+
+"I will!"
+
+The emphasis with which these two words are pronounced brings a flush of
+gratefulness over her face, and she makes a forward movement as if to
+thank him by a pressure of the hand.  She might have given it but for
+the cast upon his features, telling his consent not yet obtained, nor
+his speech finished.  There is more to come--two other words.  They
+are--
+
+"Upon conditions!"
+
+They check her bursting gratitude.  Conditions!  She knows not what they
+may be.  But she knows the character of Gil Uraga, and can predict they
+will be hard.
+
+"Name them!" she demands.  "If it be money, I'm ready to give it.
+Though my brother's property is taken from him, as we've heard, not so
+mine.  I have wealth--houses, lands.  Take all, but save Valerian's
+life."
+
+"You can save it without expending a single _claco_; only by giving a
+grace."
+
+"What mean you, senor?"
+
+"To explain my meaning I'll repeat what I've said.  Your brother's head
+is forfeit.  It can be saved by a hand."
+
+"Still I do not understand you.  A hand?"
+
+"Yes, your hand."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Grasped in mine--united with it in holy wedlock.  That is all I ask."
+
+She starts as if a serpent had stung her, for she now comprehends all.
+
+"All I ask," he continues in a strain of fervid passion, "I who love you
+with my whole soul; who have loved you for long hopeless years--aye,
+senorita, ever since you were a schoolgirl; myself a rough, wild youth,
+the son of a ranchero, who dared only gaze at you from a distance.  I am
+a peasant no longer, but one who has wealth; upon whom the State has
+bestowed power to command; made me worthy to choose a wife from among
+the proudest in our land--even to wed with the Dona Adela Miranda, who
+beholds him at her feet!"
+
+While speaking he has knelt before her, and remains upon his knees
+awaiting her response.
+
+She makes none.  She stands as if petrified, deprived of the power of
+speech.
+
+Her silence gives him hope.
+
+"Dona Adela," he continues in an appealing tone, as if to strengthen the
+chances of an affirmative answer, "I will do everything to make you
+happy--everything a husband can.  And remember your brother's life!  I
+am risking my own to save it.  I have just spoken to him on the subject.
+He does not object; on the contrary, has given consent to you being
+mine."
+
+"You say so?" she inquires, with a look of incredulity.  "I do not
+believe it--will not, without hearing it from his own lips."
+
+While speaking, she springs past the kneeling suppliant, and, before he
+can get upon his legs or stretch forth a hand to detain her, she has
+glided out of the tent, and makes for the place where she supposes the
+prisoners to be kept.
+
+Starting to his feet, Uraga rushes after.  His intent is to overtake and
+bring her back, even if he have to carry her.
+
+He is too late.  Before he can come up with her she has reached the spot
+where her brother lies bound, and kneels beside him with arms embracing,
+her lips pressing his brow, his cheeks moistened by her tears.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIXTY EIGHT.
+
+A TERRIBLE INTENTION.
+
+Not for long does the scene of agonised affection remain uninterrupted.
+In a few seconds it is intruded on by him who is causing its agony.
+
+Uraga, hastening after, has reached the spot and stands contemplating
+it.  A spectacle to melt a heart of stone, it has no softening effect on
+his.  His brow his black with rage, his eyes shining like coals of fire.
+
+His first impulse is to call Galvez and order him to drag brother and
+sister apart.  His next to do this himself.  He is about seizing Adela's
+wrist, when a thought restrains him.  No melting or impulse of humanity.
+There is not a spark of it in his bosom.  Only a hope, suddenly
+conceived, that with the two now together he may repeat his proposal
+with a better chance of its being entertained.
+
+From the expression upon their countenances he can see that in the
+interval before his coming up words have passed between them--few and
+hastily spoken, but enough for each to have been told what he has been
+saying to the other.  It does not daunt; on the contrary, but determines
+him to renew his offer, and, if necessary, reiterate his threats.
+
+There is no one within earshot for whom he need care.  Galvez has taken
+Don Prospero far apart.  Roblez is inside the tent, though he thinks not
+of him; while the Indian damsel, who stands trembling by, is not worth a
+thought.  Besides, he is now more than ever regardless of the result.
+
+"Don Valerian Miranda!" he exclaims, recovering breath after his chase
+across the camp-ground.  "I take it your sister has told you what has
+passed between us.  If not, I shall tell you myself."
+
+"My sister has communicated all--even the falsehood by which you've
+sought to fortify your infamous proposal."
+
+"_Carramba_!" exclaims Uraga, upon whose cheeks there is no blush of
+shame for the deception practised.  "Does the offer to save your life,
+at risk of my own--to rescue you from a felon's death--does that deserve
+the harsh epithet with which you are pleased to qualify it?  Come,
+senor, you are wronging me while trifling with your own interests.  I
+have been honest, and declared all.  I love the Dona Adela, as you've
+known, long.  What do I ask?  Only that she shall become my wife, and,
+by so doing, save the life of her brother.  As your brother-in-law it
+will be my duty, my interest, my pleasure, to protect you."
+
+"That you shall never be!" firmly rejoins Miranda.  "No, never!" he
+adds, with kindling fervour, "never, on such conditions!"
+
+"Does the senorita pronounce with the same determination?" asks Uraga,
+riveting his eyes on Adela.
+
+It is a terrible ordeal for the girl.  Her brother lying bound by her
+side, his death about to be decreed, his end near as if the executioner
+were standing over him--for in this light does Uraga appear.  Called
+upon to save his life by promising to become the wife of this man--
+hideous in her eyes as the hangman himself; knowing, or believing, that
+if she does not, in another hour she may be gazing upon a blood-stained
+corpse--the dead body of her own brother!  No wonder she trembles from
+head to foot, and hesitates to endorse the negative he has so
+emphatically pronounced.
+
+Don Valerian notes her indecision, and, firmly as before, repeats the
+words,--
+
+"No--never!" adding, "Dear sister, think not of me.  Do not fear or
+falter; I shall not.  I would rather die a hundred deaths than see you
+the wife of such a ruffian.  Let me die first!"
+
+"_Chingara_!" hisses the man thus boldly defied, using the vilest
+exclamation known to the Spanish tongue.  "Then you shall die first.
+And, after you're dead, she shall still be my wife, or something you may
+not like so well--my _Margarita_!"
+
+The infamous meaning conveyed by this word, well understood by Miranda,
+causes him to start half-upright, at the same time wrenching at the rope
+around his wrists.  The perspiration forced from him by the agony of the
+hour has moistened the raw-hide thong to stretching.  It yields to the
+convulsive effort, leaving his hands released.
+
+With a quick lurch forward he clutches at the sword dangling by Uraga's
+side.  Its hilt is in his grasp, and in an instant he has drawn the
+blade from its scabbard!
+
+Seeing himself thus suddenly disarmed, the Lancer Colonel springs back
+shouting loudly for help.  Miranda, his ankles bound, is at first unable
+to follow, but with the sword-blade he quickly cut the thongs, and is on
+his feet--free!
+
+In another instant he is chasing Uraga across the camp-ground, the
+latter running like a scared hound.
+
+Before he can be overtaken, the trampling of hoofs resound upon the
+grassy turf, and the returned lancers, with Roblez and the sentry, close
+around the prisoner.
+
+Don Valerian sees himself encircled by a _chevaux de frise_ of lances,
+with cocked carbines behind.  There is no chance of escape, no
+alternative but surrender.  After that--
+
+He does not stop to reflect.  A wild thought flashes across his brain--a
+terrible determination.  To carry it out only needs the consent of his
+sister.  She had rushed between their horses and stands by his side,
+with arms outstretched to protect him.
+
+"Adela!" he says, looking intently into her eyes, "dear sister, let us
+die together!"
+
+She sees the sword resolutely held in his grasp.  She cannot mistake the
+appeal.
+
+"Yes; let us, Valerian!" comes the quick response, with a look of
+despairing resignation, followed by the muttered speech of "Mother of
+God, take us both to thy bosom!  To thee we commit our souls!"
+
+He raises the blade, its point towards his sister--in another moment to
+be buried in her bosom, and afterwards in his own!
+
+The sacrifice is not permitted, though the soldiers have no hand in
+hindering it.  Dismayed or careless, they sit in their saddles without
+thought of interfering.  But between their files rushes a form in whose
+heart is more of humanity.
+
+The intruder is Conchita--opportune to an instant.
+
+Two seconds more, and the fratricidal sword would have bereft her of a
+mistress and a master, both alike beloved.
+
+Both are saved by her interference; for grasping the upraised arm, she
+restrains it from the thrust.
+
+Roblez, close following, assists her, while several of the lancers, now
+dismounted, fling themselves upon Miranda and disarm him.
+
+The intending sororicide and suicide is restored to his fastenings; his
+sister taken back to her tent; a trooper detailed to stand sentry beside
+and frustrate any attempt at a second escapade.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIXTY NINE.
+
+AN INTERCEPTED DISPATCH.
+
+While the thrilling incident described is occurring in Uraga's camp, the
+Rangers, _en route_ along the banks of the Pecos, are making all the
+haste in their power to reach it, Hamersley and Wilder every now and
+then saying some word to urge them on.
+
+In pursuit of such an enemy the Texans need no pressing.  'Tis only the
+irrestrainable impatience of the two whose souls are tortured by the
+apprehension of danger hovering over the heads of those dear to them.
+There is no difficulty in lifting the trail of the soldiers.  Their
+horses are shod, and the late storm, with its torrent of rain, has
+saturated the earth, obliterating all old hoof-marks, so that those
+later made are not only distinct but conspicuous.  So clear, that the
+craft of Cully and Wilder is not called into requisition.  Every Ranger
+riding along the trail can take it up as fast as his horse is able to
+carry him.
+
+All see that Uraga has taken no pains to blind the track of his party.
+Why should he?  He can have no suspicion of being pursued; certainly not
+by such pursuers.
+
+Along the trail, then, they ride rapidly; gratified to observe that it
+grows fresher as they advance for they are travelling thrice as fast as
+the men who made it.
+
+All at once they come to a halt--summoned to this by a sight which never
+fails to bring the most hurried traveller to a stand.  They see before
+them the dead body of a man!
+
+It is lying on a sand-spit, which projects into the river.  Upon this it
+has evidently been washed by the waters, now subsiding after the
+freshet, due to the late tornado.  Beside it shows the carcase of a
+mule, deposited in similar manner.  Both are conspicuous to the Rangers
+as they ride abreast of the spit; but their attention has been called to
+them long before by a flock of buzzards, some hovering above, others
+alighting upon the sandbank.
+
+Six or seven of the Texans, heading their horses down the sloping bank,
+ride towards the "sign"--so sad, yet terribly attractive.  It would
+tempt scrutiny anywhere; but in the prairie wilderness, in that
+dangerous desert, it may be the means of guiding to a path of safety, or
+warding from one that is perilous.
+
+While those who have detached themselves proceed out upon the sand-bar,
+the main body remains upon the high bank, awaiting their return.
+
+The dead man proves to be an Indian, though not of the _bravos_, or
+savage tribes.  Wearing a striped woollen _talma_, with coarse cotton
+shirt underneath, wide sheep-skin breeches, ex tending only a little
+below the knee, and rude raw-hide sandals upon his feet, he is evidently
+one of the Christianised aboriginals.
+
+There are no marks of violence on his body, nor yet on the carcase of
+the mule.  The case is clear at a glance.  It is one of drowning; and
+the swollen stream, still foaming past, is evidence eloquent of how it
+happened.  On the man's body there are no signs of rifling or robbery.
+His pockets, when turned inside out, yield such contents as might be
+expected on the person of an _Indio manso_.
+
+Only one thing, which, in the eyes of the examinators, appears out of
+place; a sheet of paper folded in the form of a letter, and sealed as
+such.  It is saturated with water, stained to the hue of the still
+turbid stream.  But the superscription can be read, "Por Barbato."
+
+So much Cully and Wilder, who assist at the examination, can make out
+for themselves.  But on breaking open the seal, and endeavouring to
+decipher what is written inside, both are at fault, as also the others
+along with them.  The letter is in a language that is a sealed book to
+all.  It is in Spanish.
+
+Without staying to attempt translating it, they return to the river's
+bank, taking the piece of paper along, for the superscription has
+touched a tender point, and given rise to strange suspicions.
+
+Walt carries the wet letter, which, soon as rejoining their comrades, he
+places in the hands of Hamersley.  The latter, translating, reads aloud:
+
+  "Senor Barbato,--As soon as you receive this, communicate its contents
+  to the chief.  Tell him to meet me on the Arroyo de Alamo--same place
+  as before--and that he is to bring with him twenty or thirty of his
+  painted devils.  The lesser number will be enough, as it's not an
+  affair of fighting.  Come yourself with them.  You will find me
+  encamped with a small party--some female and two male captives.  No
+  matter about the women.  It's the men you have to deal with; and this
+  is what you are to do.  Charge upon our camp the moment you get sight
+  of it; make your redskins shout like fiends, and ride forward,
+  brandishing their spears.  You won't meet resistance, nor find any one
+  on the ground when you've got there, only our two prisoners, who will
+  be fast bound, and so cannot flee with us.  What's to be done with
+  them, amigo mio, is the important part--in fact, the whole play.  Tell
+  the chief they are to be speared upon the spot, thrust through as soon
+  as you get up to them.  See to this yourself, lest there be any
+  mischance; and I'll take care you shall have your reward."
+
+Made acquainted with the contents of this vile epistle, the rage of the
+Rangers, already sufficiently aroused, breaks from all bounds, and, for
+a while, seeks vent in fearful curses and asseverations.  Though there
+is no name appended to the diabolical chapter of instructions, they have
+no doubt as to who has dictated it.  Circumstances, present and
+antecedent, point to the man of whom they are in pursuit--Gil Uraga.
+
+And he to whom the epistle is superscribed, "Por Barbato."
+
+A wild cry ascends simultaneously from the whole troop as they face
+round towards the renegade, who is still with them, and their prisoner.
+The wretch turns pale, as if all the blood of his body were abruptly
+drawn out.  Without comprehending the exact import of that cry, he can
+read in fifty pairs of eyes glaring angrily on him that his last hour
+has come.
+
+The Rangers can have no doubt as to whom the letter has been addressed,
+as they can also tell why it has miscarried.  For the renegade has
+already disclosed his name, not thinking it would thus strangely turn up
+to condemn him to death.
+
+Yes--to death; for, although promised life, with only the punishment of
+a prison, these conditions related to another criminality, and were
+granted without the full knowledge of his guilt--of connivance at a
+crime unparalleled for atrocity.  His judges feel absolved from every
+stipulation of pardon or mercy; and, summoning to the judgment seat the
+quick, stem decreer--Lynch--in less than five minutes after the
+trembling wretch is launched into eternity!
+
+There is reason for this haste.  They know that the letter has
+miscarried; but he who could dictate such a damnable epistle is a wild
+beast at large, who cannot be too soon destroyed.
+
+Leaving the body of Barbato to be devoured by wolves and vultures, they
+spur on along the Pecos, only drawing bridle to breathe their horses as
+the trail turns up at the bottom of a confluent creek--the Arroyo de
+Alamo.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVENTY.
+
+A SCHEME OF ATROCITY.
+
+Discomfited--chagrined by his discomfiture--burning with shame at the
+pitiful spectacle he has afforded to his followers--Uraga returns within
+his tent like an enraged tiger.  Not as one robbed of its prey--he is
+still sure of this as ever; for he has other strings to his bow, and the
+weak one just snapped scarce signifies.
+
+But for having employed it to no purpose he now turns upon Roblez, who
+counselled the course that has ended so disastrously.
+
+The adjutant is a safe target on which to expend the arrows of his
+spleen, and to soothe his perturbed spirit he gives vent to it.
+
+In time, however, he gets somewhat reconciled; the sooner by gulping
+down two or three glasses of Catalan brandy.  Along with the liquor,
+smoking, as if angry at his cigar, and consuming it through sheer spite,
+Roblez endeavours to soothe him by consolative speech.
+
+"What matters it, after all!" puts in the confederate.  "It may be that
+everything has been for the best.  I was wrong, no doubt, in advising as
+I did.  Still, as you see, it's gained us some advantage."
+
+"Advantage!  To me the very reverse.  Only to think of being chased
+about my own camp by a man who is my prisoner!  And before the eyes of
+everybody!  A pretty story for our troopers to tell when they get back
+to Albuquerque!  I, Colonel commanding, will be the jest of the
+_cuartel_!"
+
+"Nothing of the kind, colonel!  There is nothing to jest about.  Your
+prisoner chanced to possess himself of your sword--a thing no one could
+have anticipated.  He did it adroitly, but then you were at the time
+unsuspecting.  Disarmed, what else could you do but retreat from a man,
+armed, desperate, determined on taking your life.  I'd like to see
+anyone who'd have acted otherwise.  Under the circumstances only an
+insane man would keep his ground.  The episode has been awkward, I
+admit.  But it's all nonsense--excuse me for saying so--your being
+sensitive about that part of it.  And for the rest, I say again, it's
+given us an advantage; in short, the very one you wanted, if I
+understand your intentions aright."
+
+"In what way?"
+
+"Well, you desired a pretext, didn't you?"
+
+"To do what?"
+
+"Court-martial your prisoners, condemn, and execute them.  The attempt
+on your life will cover all this, so that the keenest scandal-monger may
+not open his lips.  It will be perfectly _en regie_ for you to hang or
+shoot Don Valerian Miranda--and, if you like, the doctor, too--after ten
+minutes' deliberation over a drum's head.  I'm ready to organise the
+court according to your directions."
+
+To this proposal Uraga replies with a significant smile, saying:
+
+"Your idea is not a bad one; but I chance to have a better.  Much as I
+hate Miranda and wish him out of the way, I don't desire to imbrue my
+hands in his blood; don't intend to, as I've already hinted to you."
+
+Roblez turns upon his superior officer a look of incredulous _surprise,
+interrogating_,--
+
+"You mean to take him back, and let him be tried in the regular way?"
+
+"I mean nothing of the kind."
+
+"I thought it strange, after your telling me he would never leave this
+place alive."
+
+"I tell you so still."
+
+"Colonel! you take pleasure in mystifying me.  If you're not going to
+try your prisoners by court-martial, in what way are your words to be
+made good?  Surely you don't intend to have them shot without form of
+trial?"
+
+"I've said I won't imbrue my hands in their blood."
+
+"True, you've said that more than once, but without making things any
+clearer to me.  You spoke of some plan.  Perhaps I may now hear it?"
+
+"You shall.  But first fill me out another _capita_ of the Catalan.
+That affair has made me thirsty as a sponge."
+
+The adjutant, acting as Ganymede, pours out the liquor and hands the cup
+to his colonel, which the latter quaffs off.  Then, lighting a fresh
+cigar, he proceeds with the promised explanation.
+
+"I spoke of events, incidents, and coincidences--didn't I, _ayadante_?"
+
+"You did, Colonel."
+
+"Well, suppose I clump them altogether, and give you the story in a
+simple narrative--a monologue?  I know, friend Roblez, you're not a man
+greatly given to speech; so it will save you the necessity of opening
+your lips till I've got through."
+
+Roblez, usually taciturn, nods assent.
+
+"Before coming out here," continues the Colonel, "I'd taken some steps.
+When you've heard what they are I fancy you'll give me credit for
+strategy, or cunning, if you prefer so calling it.  I told you I should
+take no prisoners back, and that Don Valerian and the doctor are to die.
+They will go to their graves without causing scandal to any of us.  To
+avoid it I've engaged an executioner, who will do the job without any
+direct orders from me."
+
+"Who?" asks the adjutant, forgetting his promise to be silent.
+
+"Don't interrupt!"
+
+The subordinate resumes silence.
+
+"I think," continues Uraga, in a tone of serio-comicality, "you have
+heard of a copper-coloured gentleman called `Horned Lizard.'  If I
+mistake not, you have the honour of his acquaintance.  And, unless I'm
+astray in my reckoning, you'll have the pleasure of seeing him here this
+evening, or at an early hour to-morrow morning.  He will make his
+appearance in somewhat eccentric fashion.  No doubt, he'll come into our
+camp at a charging gallop, with some fifty or a hundred of his painted
+warriors behind him.  And I shouldn't wonder if they should spit some of
+our gay lancers on the points of their spears.  That will depend on
+whether these _valientes_ be foolish enough to make resistance.  I don't
+think they will.  More likely we shall see them gallop off at the first
+whoop of the Indian assailants.  You and I, Roblez, will have to do the
+same; but, as gallant gentlemen, we must take the women along with us.
+To abandon them to the mercy of the savages, without making an effort to
+save them, were absolute poltroonery, and would never bear reporting in
+the settlements.  Therefore, we must do our best to take the ladies
+along.  Of course, we can't be blamed for not being able to save our
+male prisoners.  Their fate, I fear, will be for each to get half a
+dozen Comanche spears thrust through his body, or it may be a dozen.
+It's sad to think of it, but such misfortunes cannot always be avoided.
+They are but the ordinary incidents of frontier life.  Now, _senor
+ayadante_, do you comprehend my scheme?"
+
+"Since I am at length permitted to speak, I may say I do--at least, I
+have an obscure comprehension of it.  Fairly interpreted, I take it to
+mean this.  You have arranged with the Horned Lizard to make a
+counterfeit attack upon our camp--to shoot down or spear our poor devils
+of soldiers, if need be?"
+
+"Not the slightest need of his doing that, nor any likelihood of his
+being able to do it.  They'll run like good fellows at the first yell of
+the Indians.  Have no apprehensions about them."
+
+"In any case, the Horned Lizard is to settle the question with our
+captives, and take the responsibility off our hands.  If I understand
+aright, that is the programme."
+
+"It is."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVENTY ONE.
+
+A BOOTLESS JOURNEY.
+
+Having returned to his original design--the scheme of atrocity so coolly
+and jestingly declared, Uraga takes steps towards its execution.
+
+The first is, to order his own horse, or rather that of Hamersley, to be
+saddled, bridled, and tied behind his own tent.  The same for that
+ridden by Roblez.  Also the mustang mare which belongs to Adela
+Miranda--her own "Lolita"--and the mule set apart for the _mestiza_.
+The troop horses already caparisoned are to remain so.
+
+Ignorant of their object, the troopers wonder at these precautions,
+though not so much as might be expected.  They are accustomed to receive
+mysterious commands, and obey them without cavil or question.
+
+Not one of the ten but would cut a throat at Gil Uraga's bidding,
+without asking the reason why.
+
+The picket placed on a spin of the cliff has orders to signal if any one
+is seen coming up the creek.  If Indians appear he is to gallop into the
+camp, and report in person.
+
+The alarm thus started will easily be fostered into a stampede, and at
+the onslaught of the savages the lancers will rush to their horses and
+ride off without offering resistance.  In the _sauve qui peut_ none of
+them will give a thought to the two prisoners lying tied under the tree.
+These are to be left behind to the tender mercies of the Tenawa chief.
+It will be an act of gallantry to save the female captives by carrying
+them off.  This Uraga reserves for himself, assisted by Roblez.
+
+Such is his scheme of vicarious assassination; in the atrocity of
+conception unequalled, almost incredible.  He has no anxiety as to its
+success.  For himself he is more than ever determined; while Roblez,
+restrained by the fiasco following his advice, no longer offers
+opposition.
+
+Uraga has no fear the Tenawa chief will fail him.  He has never done so
+before, and will not now.
+
+The new proposal, which the colonel supposes to have reached the hands
+of Horned Lizard in that letter carried by Pedrillo, will be eagerly
+accepted.  Barbato will bring the chief with his cut-throats to the
+Arroyo de Alamo, sure as there is a sun in the sky.
+
+It is but a question of time.  They may come up at any hour--any minute;
+and having arranged all preliminaries, Uraga remains in his tent to
+await the cue for action.  He little dreams at the moment he is thus
+expecting his red-skinned confederate, that the latter, along with the
+best braves of his band, has gone to the happy hunting grounds, while
+his go-between, Barbato, is in safe keeping elsewhere.
+
+As the hours pass, and no one is reported as approaching, he becomes
+impatient; for the time has long elapsed since the Tenawa chief should
+have been upon the spot.
+
+Chafing, he strides forth from the tent, and proceeds towards the place
+where the look-out has been stationed.  Reaching it, he reconnoitres for
+himself, with a telescope he has taken along, to get a better view down
+the valley.
+
+At first, levelling the glass, no one can be seen.  In the reach of open
+ground, dotted here and there with groves, there are deer browsing, and
+a grizzly bear is seen crossing between the cliffs, but no shape that
+resembles a human being.
+
+He is about lowering the telescope when a new form comes into its field
+of view--a horseman riding up the creek.  No the animal is a mule.  No
+matter the rider is a man.
+
+Keenly scrutinising, he perceives it is an Indian, though not one of the
+wild sort.  His garb betokens him of the tamed.
+
+Another glance through the glass and his individuality declares itself,
+Uraga recognising him as one of the messengers sent to the Tenawas'
+town.  Not the principal, Pedrillo, but he of secondary importance,
+Jose.
+
+"Returning alone!" mutters the Mexican to himself.  "What does that
+mean?  Where can Pedrillo be?  What keeps him behind, I wonder?"
+
+He continues wondering and conjecturing till Jose has ridden up to the
+spot, when, perceiving his master, the latter dismounts and approaches
+him.
+
+In the messenger's countenance there is an expression of disappointment,
+and something more.  It tells a tale of woe, with reluctance to disclose
+it.
+
+"Where is Pedrillo?" is the first question asked in anxious impatience.
+
+"Oh, _senor coronel_!" replies Jose, hat in hand, and trembling in every
+joint.  "Pedrillo!  _Pobre Pedrillito_!"
+
+"Well!  Poor Pedrillito--what of him?  Has anything happened to him?"
+
+"Yes, your excellency, a terrible mischance I fear to tell it you."
+
+"Tell it, sirrah, and at once!  Out with it, whatever it is!"
+
+"Alas, Pedrillo is gone!"
+
+"Gone--whither?"
+
+"Down the river."
+
+"What river?"
+
+"The Pecos."
+
+"Gone down the Pecos?  On what errand?" inquired the colonel, in
+surprise.
+
+"On no errand, your excellency."
+
+"Then what's taken him down the Pecos?  Why went he?"
+
+"_Senor coronel_, he has not gone of his own will.  It is only his dead
+body that went; it was carried down by the flood."
+
+"Drowned?  Pedrillo drowned?"
+
+"_Ay de mi_!  'Tis true, as I tell you--too true, _pobrecito_."
+
+"How did this happen, Jose?"
+
+"We were crossing at the ford, senor.  The waters were up from a _norte_
+that's just passed over the plains.  The river was deep and running
+rapid, like a torrent, Pedrillo's _macho_ stumbled, and was swept off.
+It was as much as mine could do to keep its legs.  I think he must have
+got his feet stuck in the stirrups, for I could see him struggling
+alongside the mule till both went under.  When they came to the surface
+both were drowned--dead.  They floated on without making a motion,
+except what the current gave them as their bodies were tossed about by
+it.  As I could do nothing there, I hastened here to tell you what
+happened.  _Pobre Pedrillito_!"
+
+The cloud already darkening Uraga's brow grows darker as he listens to
+the explanation.  It has nothing to do with the death of Pedrillo, or
+compassion for his fate--upon which he scarce spends a thought--but
+whether there has been a miscarriage of that message of which the
+drowned man was the bearer.  His next interrogatory, quickly put, is to
+get satisfied on this head.
+
+"You reached the Tenawa town?"
+
+"We did, _senor coronel_."
+
+"Pedrillo carried a message to the Horned Lizard, with a letter for
+Barbato.  You know that, I suppose?"
+
+"He told me so."
+
+"Well, you saw him deliver the letter to Barbato?"
+
+"He did not deliver it to Barbato."
+
+"To the chief, then?"
+
+"To neither, your Excellency.  He could not."
+
+"Could not!  Why?"
+
+"They ere not there to receive it.  They are no longer in this world--
+neither the Horned Lizard nor Barbato.  Senor Coronel, the Tenawas have
+met with a great misfortune.  They've had a fight with a party of
+Tejanos.  The chief is killed, Barbato is killed, and nearly half of
+their braves.  When Pedrillo and I reached the town we found the tribe
+in mourning, the women all painted black, with their hair cut off; the
+men who had escaped the slaughter cowed, and keeping concealed within
+their lodges."
+
+A wild exclamation leaps from the lips of Uraga as he listens to these
+disclosures, his brow becoming blacker than ever.
+
+"But, Pedrillo," he inquires, after a pause; "what did he say to them?
+You know the import of his message.  Did he communicate it to the
+survivors?"
+
+"He did, your Excellency.  They could not read your letter, but he told
+them what it was about.  They were to meet you here, he said.  But they
+refused to come.  They were in too great distress about the death of
+their chief, and the chastisement they had received.  They were in fear
+that the Tejanos would pursue them to their town; and were making
+preparations to flee from it when Pedrillo and myself came away.  _Pobre
+Pedrillito_!"
+
+Uraga no longer stays listening to the mock humanity of his whining
+messenger.  No more does he think of the drowned Pedrillo.  His thoughts
+are now given to a new design.  Murder by proxy has failed.  For all
+that, it must still be done.  To take counsel with his adjutant about
+the best mode of proceeding, he hastens back to the camp; plunges into
+his tent; and there becomes closeted--the lieutenant along with him.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVENTY TWO.
+
+A MOCK COURT-MARTIAL.
+
+For the disaster that was overtaken the Tenawa chief and his warriors,
+Gil Uraga does not care a jot.  True, by the death of Horned Lizard he
+has lost an ally who, on some future scheme of murder, might have been
+used to advantage; while Barbato, whose life he believes also taken, can
+no more do him service as agent in his intercourse with the red pirates
+of the prairie.
+
+It matters not much now.  As military commander of a district he has
+attained power, enabling him to dispense with any left-handed
+assistance; and of late more than once has wished himself rid of such
+suspicious auxiliaries.  Therefore, but for the frustration of his
+present plans, he would rather rejoice than grieve over the tidings
+brought by the returned emissary.
+
+His suit scorned, his scheme of assassination thwarted, he is as much as
+ever determined on the death of the two prisoners.
+
+In the first moments of his anger, after hearing Jose's tale, he felt
+half inclined to rush upon Miranda, sword in hand, and settle the matter
+at once.  But, while returning to the camp-ground, calmer reflections
+arose, restraining him from the dastardly act, and deciding him to carry
+out the other alternative, already conceived, but kept back as a
+_dernier ressort_.
+
+"Sit down, _camarado_!" he says, addressing the adjutant on entering.
+"We must hold a court-martial, and that is too serious a ceremonial to
+be gone through without the customary forms.  The members of the court
+should be seated."
+
+The grim smile which accompanies his words shows that he means them in
+jest only as regards the manner of proceeding.  For the earnestness of
+his intention there is that in his eyes--a fierce, lurid light, which
+Roblez can read.
+
+In rejoinder the adjutant asks,--
+
+"You are still resolved upon the death of the prisoners?"
+
+"Still resolved!  Carramba!  An idle question, after what has occurred!
+They die within the hour.  We shall try, condemn, and then have them
+shot."
+
+"I thought you had arranged it in a different way?"
+
+"So I had.  But circumstances alter cases.  There's many a slip 'twixt
+cup and lip, and I've just heard of one.  The Horned Lizard has failed
+me."
+
+"How so, colonel?"
+
+"You see that Indian outside.  He's one of my muleteers I'd sent as a
+messenger to the Tenawa town.  He returns to tell me there's no Horned
+Lizard in existence, and only a remnant of his tribe.  Himself, with the
+best of his braves, has gone to the happy hunting grounds; not
+voluntarily, but sent thither by a party of Tejanos who fell foul of
+them on a foray."
+
+"That's a strange tale," rejoins Roblez, adding, "And Barbato?"
+
+"Dead, too--gone with his red-skinned associates."
+
+"Certainly a singular occurrence--quite a coincidence."
+
+"A coincidence that leaves me in an awkward predicament, without my
+expected executioners.  Well, we must supply their places by
+substituting our own cut-throats."
+
+"You'll find them willing, colonel.  The little interlude of Miranda
+getting loose, and making to run you through, has been all in your
+favour.  It affords sufficient pretext for court-martialling and
+condemning both prisoners to be shot I've heard the men say so, and they
+expect it."
+
+"They shall not be disappointed, nor have long to wait.  The court has
+finished its sitting, and given its verdict.  Without dissenting voice,
+the prisoners are condemned to death.  So much for the sentence.  Now to
+carry it into execution."
+
+"How is the thing to be done?"
+
+"Call in the sergeant.  With him I shall arrange that.  And when you're
+out, go among the men and say a word to prepare them for the measure.
+You may tell them we've been trying the prisoners, and the result
+arrived at."
+
+The adjutant steps out of the tent; and while Uraga is swallowing
+another cup of Catalan to fortify him for his fearful purpose, the
+sergeant enters.
+
+"_Sergente_! there's some business to be done of a delicate nature, and
+you must take direction of it."
+
+The Serjeant salutes, and stands awaiting the explanation.  The colonel
+continues:--
+
+"We intend taking our prisoners no farther--the men, I mean.  With the
+women we have nothing to do--as prisoners.  After what you saw, we deem
+it necessary that Don Valerian Miranda should die; and also the other,
+who is equally incriminated as a traitor to the State--a rebel, an old
+conspirator, well known.  Lieutenant Roblez and I have held a court, and
+decreed their death.  So order the men to load their carbines, and make
+ready to carry out the sentence."
+
+The sergeant simply nods assent, and, again saluting, is about to
+retire, when Uraga stays him with a second speech.
+
+"Let all take part in the firing except Galvez.  Post him as sentry over
+the square tent.  Direct him to stand by its entrance and see that the
+flap is kept down.  Under no circumstances is he to let either of its
+occupants out.  It's not a spectacle for women--above all, one of them.
+Never mind; we can't help that I'm sorry myself, but duty demands this
+rigorous measure.  Now go.  First give Galvez his orders; then to the
+men and get them ready.  Make no more noise than is necessary.  Let your
+lancers be drawn up in line; afoot, of course, and single file."
+
+"Where am I to place the prisoners, colonel?"
+
+"Ah! true; I did not think of that."
+
+Uraga steps to the entrance of the tent, and, looking forth, takes a
+survey of the camp-ground.  His eyes seek the spot occupied by the
+prisoners.  They are both again together, under the same tree where
+first placed, a sentry keeping guard over them.  The tree is a
+cottonwood, with smooth stem and large limbs extending horizontally.
+Another is near, so similar as to seem a twin; both being a little out
+from the thick timber, which forms a dark background behind them.
+
+After regarding them a moment, scanning them as a lumberman would a log
+intended for a saw-mill, Uraga directs.
+
+"Raise the prisoners upright, and tie one to each of those two trees.
+Set their backs to the trunk.  They've both been army men, and we won't
+disgrace the cloth by shooting them from behind.  That's grace enough
+for rebels."
+
+The sergeant, saluting, is again about to go, only staying to catch some
+final words of direction.  They are--
+
+"In ten minutes I shall expect you to have everything ready.  When
+you've got the stage set I shall myself appear upon it as an actor--the
+Star of this pretty play!"
+
+And with a hoarse laugh at his horrid jest, the ruffian retires within
+his tent.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVENTY THREE.
+
+THE HAND OF GOD.
+
+The sun is descending towards the crest of the Cordillera, his rays
+becoming encrimsoned as twilight approaches.  They fall like streams of
+blood between the bluffs enclosing the valley of the Arroyo de Alamo,
+their tint in unison with a tragedy there about to be enacted--in itself
+strangely out of correspondence with the soft, tranquil scene.
+
+The stage is the encampment of Uraga and his detachment of lancers, now
+set for the terrible spectacle soon to take place.
+
+The two tents are still standing as pitched, several paces apart.  At
+the entrance of the square one, with its flap drawn close and tied, a
+soldier keeps sentry; that of conical shape being unguarded.
+
+Rearward, by the wood edge, are three horses and a mule, all four under
+saddle, with bridles on; these attached to the branches of a tree.
+There is no providence in this, but rather neglect.  Since the purpose
+for which they were caparisoned has proved abortive, they remain so only
+from having been forgotten.
+
+The other troop-horses have been stripped, and, scattered over the mead,
+are browsing at the length of their lariats.
+
+It is in the positions and attitudes of the men that a spectator might
+read preparation; and of a kind from which he could not fail to deduce
+the sequence of a sanguinary drama.  Not one accompanied by much noise,
+but rather solemn and silent; only a few words firmly spoken, to be
+followed by a volley; in short, a military execution, or, as it might be
+more properly designated, a military murder.
+
+The victims devoted are seen near the edge of the open ground--its lower
+edge regarding the direction of the stream.  They are in erect attitude,
+each with his back to the trunk of a tree, to which with raw-hide ropes
+they are securely lashed.  No need telling who they are.  The reader
+knows them to be the prisoners lately lying prostrate near the same
+place.
+
+In their front, and scarce ten paces distant, the lancers are drawn up
+in line and single file.  There are ten of them, the tenth a little
+retired to the right, showing chevrons on his sleeve.  He is the
+sergeant in immediate command of the firing party.  Farther rearward,
+and close by the conical tent, and two in the uniform of officers, Uraga
+and his adjutant.  The former is himself about to pronounce the word of
+command, the relentless expression upon his face, blent with a grim
+smile that overspreads it, leading to believe that the act of diabolical
+cruelty gives him gratification.  Above, upon the cliff's brow, the
+black vultures also show signs of satisfaction.  With necks craned and
+awry, the better to look below, they see preparations which instinct or
+experience has taught them to understand.  Blood is about to be spilled;
+there will be flesh to afford them a feast.
+
+There is now perfect silence, after a scene which preceded; once more
+Uraga having made overtures to Miranda, with promise of life under the
+same scandalous conditions; as before, to receive the response, firmly
+spoken,--
+
+"No--never!"
+
+The patriot soldier prefers death to dishonour.
+
+His choice taken, he quails not.  Tied to the trunk of the tree, he
+stands facing his executioners without show of fear.  If his cheeks be
+blanched, and his bosom throbbing with tumultuous emotion, 'tis not at
+sight of the firing party, or the guns held loaded in their hands.  Far
+other are his fears, none of them for himself, but all for his dear
+sister--Adela.  No need to dwell upon or describe them.  They may be
+imagined.
+
+And Don Prospero, brave and defiant too.  He stands backed by the tree,
+his eyes showing calm courage, his long silvered beard touching his
+breast, not drooping or despairingly, but like one resigned to his fate,
+and still firm in the faith that has led to it--a second Wickliffe at
+the stake.
+
+The moment has arrived when the stillness becomes profound, like the
+calm which precedes the first burst of a thunderstorm.  The vultures
+above, the horses and men below, are all alike silent.
+
+The birds, gazing intently, have ceased their harsh croaking; the
+quadrupeds, as if startled by the very silence, forsaking the sweet
+grass, have tossed their heads aloft, and so hold them.  While the men,
+hitherto speaking in whispers, no more converse, but stand mute and
+motionless.  They are going to deal death to two of their
+fellow-creatures; and there is not one among them who does not know it
+is a death undeserved--that he is about to commit murder!
+
+For all this, not one has a thought of staying his hand.  Along the
+whole line there is no heart amenable to mercy, no breast throbbing with
+humanity.  All have been in a like position before--drawn up to fire
+upon prisoners, their countrymen.  The patriots of their country, too;
+for the followers of Gil Uraga are all of them picked adherents of the
+_parti preter_.
+
+"_Sergente_!" asks Uraga, on coming forth from his tent, "is everything
+ready?"
+
+"All ready," is the prompt reply.
+
+"Attention!" commands the Colonel, stepping a pace or two forward, and
+speaking in a low tone, though loud enough to be heard by the lancers.
+
+"Make ready!"
+
+The carbines are raised to the ready.
+
+"Take aim!"
+
+The guns are brought to the level, their bronzed barrels glistening
+under the rays of the setting sun, with muzzles pointed at the
+prisoners.  They who grasp them but wait for the word "Fire!"
+
+It is forming itself on Gil Uraga's lips.  But before he can speak there
+comes a volley, filling the valley with sound, and the space around the
+prisoners with smoke.  The reports of more than forty pieces speak
+almost simultaneously, none of them with the dull detonation of cavalry
+carbines, but the sharper ring of the rifle!
+
+While the last crack is still reverberating from the rocks, Uraga sees
+his line of lancers prostrate along the sward; their guns, escaped from
+their grasp, scattered beside them, still undischarged!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVENTY FOUR.
+
+"SAUVE QUI PEUT."
+
+At sight of his soldiers cut down like ripe corn before the reaper,
+Uraga stands in stupefied amaze; his adjutant the same.  Both are alike
+under the spell of a superstitious terror.  For the blow, so sudden and
+sweeping, seems given by God's own hand.  They might fancy it a _coup
+d'eclair_.  But the jets of fire shooting forth from the forest edge,
+through a cloud of sulphurous smoke, are not flashes of lightning; nor
+the rattle that accompanies them the rolling of thunder, but the reports
+of firearms discharged in rapid succession.  While in shouts following
+the shots there is no accent of Heaven; on the contrary, the cries are
+human, in the voices of men intoned to a terrible vengeance.
+
+Though every one of the firing party has fallen, sergeant as well as
+rank and file, the two officers are still untouched.  So far they have
+been saved by the interposition of the formed line.  But straggling
+shots succeed, and bullets are whizzing past their ears.
+
+These, quickening their instincts, rouse them from their stupefaction;
+and both, turning from the direction of the danger, looked to the other
+side for safety.
+
+At first wildly and uncertain, for they are still under a weird
+impression, with senses half bewildered.
+
+Neither has a knowledge of the enemy that has made such havoc among
+their men; only an instinct or intuition that the blow has been struck
+by those terrible _Tejanos_, for the shots heard were the cracks of
+rifles, and the shouts, still continued, are not Indian yells nor
+Mexican vivas, but the rough hurrahs of the Anglo-Saxon.
+
+While standing in hesitancy, they hear a voice raised above the rest--
+one which both recognise.  Well do they remember it, pealing among the
+waggons on that day of real ruthless carnage.
+
+Glancing back over their shoulders, they see him who sends it forth--the
+giant guide of the caravan.  He has just broken from the timber's edge,
+and in vigorous bounds is advancing towards them.  Another is by his
+side, also recognised.  With trembling frame, and heart chilled by fear,
+Uraga identifies his adversary in the duel at Chihuahua.
+
+Neither he nor his subordinate remains a moment longer on the ground.
+No thought now of carrying off their female captives, no time to think
+of them.  Enough, and they will be fortunate, if they can themselves
+escape.
+
+Better for both to perish there by the sides of their slain comrades.
+But they know not this, and only yield to the common instinct of
+cowardice, forcing them to flee.
+
+Fortune seems to favour them.  For animals fully caparisoned stand
+behind the conical tent.  They are these that were in readiness for a
+flight of far different kind, since unthought of--altogether forgotten.
+
+Good luck their being saddled and bridled now.  So think Uraga and
+Roblez as they rush towards them.  So thinks Galvez, who is also making
+to mount one.  The sentry has forsaken his post, leaving the marquee
+unguarded.  When a lover no longer cares for his sweetheart, why should
+he for a captive.
+
+And in the _sauve-qui-peut_ scramble there is rarely a regard for rank,
+the colonel counting for no more than the corporal.  Obedient to this
+levelling instinct, Galvez, who has arrived first on the ground, selects
+the best steed of the three--this being the horse of Hamersley.
+
+Grasping the bridle, and jerking it from the branch, he springs upon the
+animal's back and starts to ride off.  Almost as soon the two officers
+get astride, Roblez on his own charger, the mustang mare being left to
+Uraga.  From her mistress he must part thus unceremoniously, covered
+with ignominious shame!
+
+The thought is torture, and for a time stays him.
+
+A dire, damnable purpose flashes across his brain, and for an instant
+holds possession of his heart.  It is to dismount, make for the marquee,
+enter it, and kill Adela Miranda--thrust her through with his sword.
+
+Fortunately for her, the coward's heart fails him.
+
+He will not have time to do the murder and remount his horse.  The
+Rangers are already in the open ground and rushing towards him, Wilder
+and Hamersley at their head.  In a minute more they will be around him.
+
+He hesitates no longer, but, smothering his chagrin and swallowing his
+unappeased vengeance, puts whip and spur to the mustang mare, going off
+as fast as she can carry him.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVENTY FIVE.
+
+DIVIDED BY DUTY.
+
+But for a half-score men lying dead along the earth, their warm blood
+welling from wounds where bullets have passed through their bodies, the
+gory drops here and there like dew bedecking the blades of grass, or in
+fuller stream settling down into the sand--but for this, the too real
+evidence of death, one who entered the camp of Uraga as the Mexican
+Colonel is riding out of it might fancy himself spectator of a pantomime
+during the scene of transformation.  In the stage spectacle, not quicker
+or more contrasting could be the change.
+
+The gaily-apparelled lancers, with their plumes, pennons, and tassels,
+representing the sprites and sylphides of the pantomime, are succeeded
+by men who look real life.  Big bearded men, habited in homespun; some
+wearing buckskin, others blanket coats; all carrying guns, bowie-knives,
+and pistols; the first smoking at the muzzles, as freshly fired, the
+last held in hand, ready to be discharged as soon as somebody worth
+shooting at shows himself.
+
+Entering the open ground ahead of the others, Hamersley and Wilder
+glance around in search of this somebody, both thinking of the same.
+They see stretched along the sward ten soldiers dead as herrings on a
+string, but among them no one wearing the uniform of an officer--
+certainly not him they are after.
+
+Their first glance is unrewarded, but their second gives all they seek.
+Behind a tent, and partially screened by the trees, three men are in the
+act of mounting three horses.  One is already in the saddle and moving
+away, the other two have just set foot in the stirrup.  The roan mounted
+is unknown to the pursuers; but his animal is recognised by them.  It is
+Hamersley's own horse!  Of the other two but one is identified, and him
+only by Hamersley.  He sees Gil Uraga.
+
+A cry from the Kentuckian expresses disappointment.  For on the instant
+after sighting the Mexican officers the latter have leaped into their
+saddles and gone off at a full gallop.  A rifle shet might yet reach
+them; but the guns of both Kentuckian and Texan are empty.  Their
+revolvers are loaded to no purpose.  The retreating horsemen are beyond
+pistol range!
+
+Sure of this, they do not think of firing.  And afoot, as all the
+Rangers are--having left the horses behind to steal forward--they feel
+helpless to pursue for the present.  While hesitating, a circumstance
+occurs giving Hamersley a hope.  The man who has mounted his horse finds
+a difficulty in managing him.  As a Mexican he sits the saddle to
+perfection, but cannot make the animal go the way he wants.
+
+From behind the horse has heard neighing, which he knows to come from
+the steeds of his own race, and, knowing this, has resolved to rub noses
+with them.
+
+In vain Galvez kicks against his ribs, beats him about the head, and
+makes frantic efforts to urge him on.  He but rears in the opposite
+direction, backing so far as to bring his rider within reach of the
+revolver held in the hands of Hamersley.  Its crack rings clear--not
+needing to be repeated or the cylinder turned.  At the first explosion
+the soldier is seen to spring from the saddle, dropping dead without
+kick or cry, while the steed, disembarrassed, sheers round and comes
+trotting towards the place whence the shot proceeded.
+
+In a moment more its real master has hold of the bridle-rein, his shout
+of joy answered by a whimper of recognition.
+
+Seeing how matters stand, the Rangers hasten back to get possession of
+their horses; others make for those of the fallen lancers, that now in
+affright are rearing and straining at the end of their trail-ropes in a
+vain endeavour to break loose.
+
+For neither can Hamersley wait.  It will take time, which his
+impatience--his burning thirst for vengeance--cannot brook.  He is
+thinking of his slain comrades, whose bones lie unburied on the sands of
+the Canadian; also of the outrage so near being perpetrated, so
+opportunely interrupted.
+
+But one thought stays him--Adela.  Where is she?  Is she safe?  He turns
+towards the marquee late guarded by Galvez.  A very different individual
+is now seen at its entrance.  Walt Wilder, with bowie-knife bared, its
+blade cutting the cords that kept the tent closed.  In an instant they
+are severed, the flap flies open, and two female forms rush forth.  In
+another instant one of them is lying along Hamersley's breast, the other
+in the embrace of Wilder.  Kisses and words are exchanged.  Only a few
+of the latter, till Hamersley, withdrawing himself from the arms that
+softly entwine him, tells of his intention to part.
+
+"For what purpose?" is the interrogatory, asked in tremulous accents,
+and with eyes that speak painful surprise.
+
+"To redress my wrongs and yours, Adela," is the response firmly spoken.
+
+"_Santissima_!" she exclaims, seeing her lover prepare to spring into
+the saddle.  "Francisco!  Stay with me.  Do not again seek danger.  The
+wretch is not worthy of your vengeance."
+
+"'Tis not vengeance, but justice.  'Tis my duty to chastise this crime--
+the greatest on earth.  Something whispers me 'tis a destiny, and I
+shall succeed.  Dearest Adela, do not stay me.  There is no danger.  I
+shall be back soon, bringing Uraga's sword, perhaps himself, along with
+me."
+
+"Thar's odds again ye, Frank," interposes Wilder.  "Two to one.  If I
+foller afoot I mayn't be up in time.  An' the boys that's gone arter
+thar critters, they'll be too late."
+
+"Never mind the odds!  I'll make it up with the five shots still in my
+revolver.  See, dearest, your brother is coming this way.  Go meet and
+tell him I shall soon return with a prisoner to be exchanged for him.
+Another kiss!  _Adios! hasta luego_!"
+
+Tearing himself from arms so reluctant to release him, he bounds upon
+the back of his horse and spurs off, soon disappearing among the trees.
+
+Scarce is he out of sight when another quadruped is seen galloping
+after--not a horse, but a hybrid.
+
+Walt Wilder has espied the saddled mule hitched up behind the tent--that
+intended for Conchita.  It is now ridden by the ex-Ranger, who, prodding
+it with the point of his bowie, puts it to its best speed.
+
+And soon after go other horsemen--the Texans who have recovered their
+steeds, with some who have caught those of the troopers, rapidly bridled
+and mounted them bare-back.
+
+They who stay behind become spectators of a scene strange and tender.
+Two male prisoners unexpectedly rescued--snatched, as it were, from the
+jaws of death--two female captives alike saved from dishonour.  A
+brother embracing his sister, whose noble affection but the moment
+before prompted her to share with him the first sooner than submit to
+the last.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVENTY SIX.
+
+THE CHASE.
+
+Hamersley has his horse fairly astretch ere the fugitives, though out of
+sight, are many hundred yards ahead; for the scenes and speeches
+recorded occupied but a few seconds of time.
+
+He is confident of being able to overtake them.  He knows his Kentucky
+charger is more than a match for any Mexican horse, and will soon bring
+him up with Uraga and the other officer.  If they should separate he
+will follow the former.
+
+As he rides on he sees they cannot go far apart.  There is a sheer
+precipice on each side--the bluffs that bound the creek bottom.  These
+will keep the pursued men together, and he will have both to deal with.
+
+The ground is such that they cannot possibly escape him except by
+superior speed.  He can see the cliffs on each side to their bases.
+There is not enough underwood for a horseman to hide in.
+
+He hastens on, therefore, supposing them still before him.
+
+In ten minutes more he is sure of it--they are in sight!
+
+The timber through which the chase has hitherto led abruptly terminates,
+a long grassy mead of over a mile in length lying beyond; and beyond it
+the trees again obstruct the vista up the valley.  The retreating
+horsemen have entered upon this open tract, but not got far over it,
+when Hamersley spurs his horse out of the timber tract, and pursuer and
+pursued are in sight of other.
+
+It is now a tail-on-end chase, all three horses going at the greatest
+speed to which their riders can press them.  It is evident that the
+large American horse is rapidly gaining upon the Mexican mustangs, and,
+if no accident occur, will soon be alongside them.
+
+Hamersley perceives this, and, casting a glance ahead, calculates the
+distance to where the timber again commences.  To overtake them before
+they can reach it is the thought uppermost in his mind.  Once among the
+tree-trunks they can go as fast as he, for there the superior fleetness
+of his horse will not avail.  Besides, there may be a thick underwood,
+giving them a chance of concealment.
+
+He must come up with them before they can reach the cover, and to this
+end he once more urges his animal both with spur and speech.
+
+At this moment Roblez looking back, perceives there is but one man in
+chase of them.  A long stretch of open plain in his rear, and no other
+pursuer upon it.  Brigand though he be, the adjutant possesses real
+courage.  And there are two of them, in full health and strength, both
+armed with sabres, himself carrying a pair of dragoon pistols in his
+holsters.  Those belonging to Uraga are nearer to the hand of
+Hamersley--having been left upon the saddle which the colonel, in his
+hasty retreat, had been hindered from occupying.
+
+"_Carajo_!" exclaims Roblez, "there's but one of them after us.  The
+others haven't had time to get mounted, and won't be up for a while.
+It's some rash fool who's got your horse under him.  Let's turn upon
+him, colonel."
+
+The coward thus appealed to cannot refuse compliance.  In an instant the
+two wheel round, and, with blades bared, await the approach of the
+pursuer.
+
+In a dozen more strides of his horse Hamersley is on the ground.  Uraga
+now recognises his antagonist in the Chihuahua duel--the man he hates
+above all others on earth.
+
+This, hatred, intense as it is, does not supply him with courage.  In
+the eye of the pursuer coming on, when close up, Uraga reads a terrible
+expression--that of the avenger!
+
+Something whispers him his hour has come, and with shrinking heart and
+palsied arm he awaits the encounter.
+
+As said, the two Mexican officers carry swords, cavalry sabres.  Against
+these the Kentuckian has no weapon for parrying or defence.  He is but
+ill-armed for the unequal strife, having only a Colt's revolver with one
+chamber empty, and, as a _dernier ressort_, the single-barrelled pistols
+in the holsters.
+
+Quickly perceiving his disadvantage, he checks up before coming too
+close, and with his revolver takes aim, and fires at the nearest of his
+antagonists, who is Roblez.
+
+The shot tells, tumbling the lancer lieutenant out of his saddle, and
+making more equal the chances of the strife.
+
+But there is no more fighting, nor the show of it, for Uraga, on seeing
+his comrade fall, and once more catching sight of that avenging glance
+that glares at him as if from the eyes of Nemesis, wrenches the mustang
+round, and rides off in wild retreat; his sword, held loosely, likely to
+drop from his grasp.
+
+Soon it does drop, for Hamersley, following in close pursuit, delivers a
+second shot from the revolver.  The bullet hits the extended sword arm;
+the naked blade whirls out, and falls with a ring upon the meadow turf.
+
+Uraga rides on without looking back.  He has not even courage to turn
+his face towards his antagonist.  He thinks only of reaching the timber,
+in a despairing hope he may there find shelter and safety.
+
+It is not his destiny to reach it; the pursuer is too close upon his
+heels.  The head of Hamersley's horse is swept by the mustang's tail,
+its long, white hair spread comet-like behind.
+
+Once more the revolver is raised, its muzzle pointed at the retreating
+coward.  The pressing of its trigger would send a bullet into his back.
+It is not pressed.
+
+As if from mercy or mere caprice Hamersley suddenly transfers the pistol
+to his left hand.  Then, forcing his horse to a long leap forward, he
+lays hold of Uraga with his right.
+
+Grasping the Mexican by the sword-belt and jerking him out of the
+saddle, he dashes him down to the earth.  Then reining up, with the
+revolver once more in his right hand, he cries out--
+
+"Lie still, you ruffian!  Don't move an inch!  I have four shots to
+spare, and if you attempt to stir, one of them will quiet you."
+
+The admonition is not needed.  Uraga, stunned by the shock for a time,
+makes no movement.  He is insensible.
+
+Before he comes to himself the Rangers have ridden up, with Walt Wilder
+at their head.  They proceed to make prisoners of the two men, neither
+of whom has been killed in the encounter.
+
+Better for both if they had.  For they are now in the hands of men who
+will surely doom them to a death less easy thar that they had escaped.
+
+Their fate is inevitable.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVENTY SEVEN.
+
+THE CAMP TRANSFORMED.
+
+Another sun rises over the Llano Estacado, his beams gilding with ruddy
+glow the brown basaltic cliffs that enclose the valley of the Arroyo de
+Alamo.
+
+On projecting points of these, above the spot chosen by Uraga for his
+camp, the black vultures are still perched.  Though 'tis not their usual
+roosting-place, they have remained there all night, now and then giving
+utterance to their hoarse, guttural croaks, when some howling, predatory
+quadruped--coyote or puma--approaching too near, has startled them from
+their dozing slumbers.  As the first rays of the sun rouse them to
+activity, their movements tell why they have stayed.  No longer at rest,
+or only at intervals, they flit from rock to rock, and across the valley
+from cliff to cliff, at times swooping so low that their wings almost
+touch the topmost twigs of the trees growing upon the banks of the
+stream.  All the while with necks astretch, and eyes glaring in hungry
+concupiscence.  For below they perceive the materials of a repast--a
+grand, gluttonous feast--no longer in doubtful expectation, but now
+surely provided for them.
+
+Ten men lie prostrate upon the sward; not asleep, as the vultures well
+know--nor yet reclining to rest themselves.  Their attitudes are
+evidence against this.  They lie with bodies bent and limbs stiff, some
+of them contorted to unnatural postures.  Besides, on the grass-blades
+around are drops and gouts of blood, grown black during the night,
+looking as if it had rained ink; while little pools of the same are here
+and there seen, dull crimson and coagulated.
+
+From these sanguinary symbols the vultures are well aware that the
+recumbent forms are neither asleep nor reposing.  Every bird knows that
+every man of them is dead; and, though still clad in the uniform of
+soldiers, with all the gay insignia of lancers, they are but clay-cold
+corpses.
+
+It is the firing party, still lying as it fell; not a figure disturbed,
+not a coat stripped off nor pocket rifled; no strap, plume, or pennon
+displaced since the moment when all dropped dead almost simultaneously
+at the detonation of the Rangers' rifles.
+
+Except the tents, which are still set as before, this cluster of corpses
+is the only thing seeming unchanged since yesterday's sun went down.
+For it was after sunset when the pursuers returned, bringing their
+prisoners along with them.  As on yesterday, two captives are seen under
+the same tree, where late lay Don Valerian and the doctor.  But
+different men, with quite another style of sentry standing over them.
+The latter, a rough-garbed, big-bearded Texan, full six feet in height,
+shouldering a gun whose butt, when rested on the ground, places the
+muzzle within an inch of his chin.  No need to say who are the two he is
+guarding.  At his feet Uraga lies, crestfallen, with a craven look upon
+his face, like a fox in the trap; his splendid habiliments torn,
+mud-bedaubed, bedraggled.  Besides him his adjutant, Roblez--his
+confederate in many a crime--also showing signs of having received rough
+treatment, but not without resenting it.  His aspect is that of a tiger
+encaged, chafing at the torture, regardless of what may be the end.  On
+the camp ground are seen some sixty horses with half-a-dozen mules.
+About fifty of the former are under saddle and bridle, as if soon to be
+mounted.  The others have lariats around their necks, intended to be
+led.
+
+A few men--those of inferior standing--look after the animals; while the
+larger number is gathered into a group near the centre of the camp
+ground.  Their air, attitudes, earnest speech, and excited
+gesticulations tell they are taking counsel on some matter of serious
+import.
+
+Walt Wilder is among them, Hamersley being absent.  The latter is inside
+the square tent, in pleasanter companionship.
+
+He is seated upon a _catre_, Adela by his side, her hand clasping his.
+This without any bashfulness or reserve at her brother being present.
+Which he is, along with the dear old doctor, both now released from
+their bonds.  It is a tableau of true love, wreathed with fraternal
+affection.
+
+With devotion also, of an humbler kind, Conchita is passing out and in,
+rejoicing in a general way.  She pays no attention to a peon who lies
+tied behind the tent--Jose; and gives only scorn to another seen fast
+bound beside him--Manuel.
+
+Notwithstanding her knowledge that this man is madly in love with her--
+for she now also knows how much he has been a traitor--her thoughts, as
+her eyes, are upon one more true--on her grand, gallant _Tejano_!  She
+is proud to observe the distinguished part he plays among his
+_compaisanos_.  For, in truth, Walt is doing this.  Standing a half head
+taller than any of the Rangers around him, he is alike leader in their
+deliberations, those the most serious in which men can be engaged.
+
+No question of life and death.  It has been, but is no longer.  The
+latter has been unanimously decreed, the verdict declared, the sentence
+pronounced.  Their talk now only relates to the manner of execution.
+
+The Ranger Captain, who presides, puts the interrogatory thus:
+
+"Well, boys, what are we to do with them?  Shoot or hang?"
+
+"Hang!" is the response from more than a majority of voices.
+
+"Shootin' is too clean a death for scoundrels sech as them," is the
+commentary of a voice recognisable as that of Nat Cully.
+
+"They ought to be scalped, skinned, an' quartered," adds a man disposed
+to severer punishment.
+
+"Yes!" affirms another of the like inclining.  "A bit of torture
+wouldn't be more than the rascals deserve."
+
+"Come, comrades!" cries the Ranger Captain.  "Remember, we are Texans,
+and not savages like those we're about to punish.  Sufficient to send
+them out of the world without acting inhumanly.  You all declare for
+hanging?"
+
+"All!"
+
+"Enough!  Where shall we string them up?"
+
+"Yonner's a pick spot," responds Wilder, pointing out the two trees to
+which Don Valerian and the doctor had been lately lashed.  "They kin
+each hev a branch separate, so's not to crowd one the t'other in makin'
+tracks to etarnity."
+
+"Jest the place!" endorses Cully.  "Kedn't be a better gallis if the
+sheriff o' Pike County, Massoury, had rigged it up hisself.  We'll gie
+'em a tree apiece, as they war about to do wi' thar innocent prisoners.
+Takin' their places'll be turn an' turn about.  That's fair, I reckin."
+
+"Boys!" cries Walt, "look out a cupple o' layvettes, an' fetch 'em this
+way."
+
+Several start towards the horse-drove, and soon return with the
+trail-ropes.  Then all proceed towards the two trees.  Each chances to
+have a large limb extending horizontally outward from the trunk.  Over
+each a tazo is flung, one end left loose, the other remaining in the
+hand of him who pitched it.  Before flinging them the rope has been
+passed through the iron ring with which all lariats are provided, thus
+furnishing a ready-made running noose.
+
+"Who's to haul up?" asks the Ranger Captain; adding, "Boys!  'Taint a
+nice business, I know; but I suppose there's some of you willing to
+undertake it."
+
+Some of them!
+
+Forty voices, nearly all present, are heard crying out with one accord--
+
+"I'm willing!"
+
+In fact, every man upon the ground seems eager to take part in a duty
+which, under other circumstances, would be not only disagreeable, but
+disgusting to them.  Rough, rude men as most of the Rangers are, little
+prone to delicate sentimentalism, they are, nevertheless, true to the
+ordinary instincts of humanity.  Accustomed to seeing blood spilled, and
+not squeamish about spilling it if it be that of a red-skinned foe, it
+is different when the complexion is white.
+
+In the present case they have no scruples on the score of colour.  What
+has been told them about their two prisoners--the atrocities these have
+committed--puts all this aside.  The tale has made a profound impression
+upon their minds; and, beyond any motive of mere revenge, they are
+stirred by a sense of just retribution.  Every man of them feels as if
+it were his sacred duty to deal out justice, and administer the
+punishment of death to criminals so surely deserving it.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVENTY EIGHT.
+
+A LIVING SCAFFOLD.
+
+Captain Haynes, seeing there will be no difficulty in obtaining
+executioners, deems everything settled, and is about ordering the
+prisoners to be brought up.  Being a man of humane feelings, with
+susceptibilities that make him somewhat averse to performing the part of
+sheriff, it occurs to him that he can avoid the disagreeable duty by
+appointing a deputy.
+
+For this he selects Walt Wilder, who in turn chooses Nat Cully to assist
+him.  The two assume superintendence of the ceremony, and the Ranger
+Captain retires from the ground.
+
+After communing for some seconds between themselves, and in _sotto
+voce_, as if arranging the mode of execution, Walt faces round to the
+assembled Texans, saying--
+
+"Wal, boys, thar 'pears to be no stint o' hangmen among ye.  This chile
+niver seed so many o' the Jack Ketch kind since he fust set foot on the
+soil o' Texas.  Maybe it's the smell o' these Mexikins makes ye so
+savagerous."
+
+Walt's quaint speech elicits a general laugh, but suppressed.  The scene
+is too solemn for an ebullition of boisterous mirth.  The ex-Ranger
+continues--
+
+"I see you'll want to have a pull at these ropes.  But I reckon we'll
+have to disapp'int ye.  The things we're agoin' to swing up don't
+desarve hoistin' to etarnity by free-born citizens o' the Lone Star
+State.  'Twould be a burnin' shame for any Texan to do the hangin' o'
+sech skunks as they."
+
+"What do you mean, Walt?" one asks.  "Somebody must hoist them up!"
+
+"'Taint at all necessary.  They kin be strung 'ithout e'er a hand
+techin' trail-rope."
+
+"How?" inquire several voices.
+
+"Wal, thar's a way Nat Cully an' me hev been speaking o'.  I've heern o'
+them Mexikins practisin' themselves on thar Injun prisoners for sport.
+We'll gie' 'em a dose o' their own medicine.  Some o' you fellows go an'
+fetch a kupple o' pack mules.  Ye may take the saddles off--they won't
+be needed."
+
+Half-a-dozen of the Rangers rush out, and return leading two mules,
+having hastily stripped off their alparejas.
+
+"Now!" cries Walt, "conduct hyar the kriminals!"
+
+A party proceeds to the spot where the two prisoners lie; and taking
+hold, raise them to an erect attitude.  Then, half carrying, half
+dragging, bring them under the branches designed for their gallows-tree.
+
+With their splendid uniforms torn, mud-bedaubed, and stained with spots
+of blood, they present a sorry spectacle.  They resemble wounded wolves,
+taken in a trap; nevertheless, bearing their misfortune in a far
+different manner.  Roblez looks the large, grey wolf--savage, reckless,
+unyielding; Uraga, the coyote--cowed, crestfallen, shivering; in fear of
+what may follow.
+
+For a time neither speaks a word nor makes an appeal for mercy.  They
+seem to know it would be idle.  Regarding the faces around, they may
+well think so.  There is not one but has "death" plainly stamped upon
+it, as if the word itself were upon every lip.
+
+There is an interval of profound silence, only broken by the croak of
+the buzzards and the swish of their spread wings.  The bodies of the
+dead lancers lie neglected; and, the Rangers now further off, the birds
+go nearer them.  Wolves, too, begin to show themselves by the edge of
+the underwood--from the stillness thinking the time arrived to commence
+their ravenous repast.  It has but come to increase the quantity of food
+soon to be spread before them.
+
+"Take off thar leg fastenin's!" commands Wilder, pointing to the
+prisoners.
+
+In a trice the lashings are loosed from their ankles, and only the ropes
+remain confining their wrists--these drawn behind their backs, and there
+made fast.
+
+"Mount 'em on the mules!"
+
+As the other order, this is instantly executed; and the two prisoners
+are set astride on the hybrids, each held by a man at its head.
+
+"Now fix the snares roun' thar thrapples.  Make the other eends fast by
+giein' them a wheen o' turn over them branches above.  See as ye draw
+'em tight 'ithout streetchin'."
+
+Walt's orders are carried out quickly, and to the letter, for the men
+executing them now comprehend what is meant.  They also, too well, who
+are seated upon the backs of the mules.  It is an old trick of their
+own.  They know they are upon a scaffold--a living scaffold--with a
+halter and running noose around their necks.
+
+"Now, Nat!" says Walt, in undertone to Cully.  "I guess we may spring
+the trap?  Git your knife riddy."
+
+"It's hyar."
+
+"You take the critter to the left.  I'll look arter that on the right."
+
+The latter is bestridden by Uraga.  With Walt's ideas of duty are
+mingled memories that prompt to revenge.  He remembers his comrades
+slaughtered upon the sands of the Canadian, himself left buried alive.
+With a feeling almost jubilant--natural, considering the circumstances,
+scarce reprehensible--he takes his stand by the side of the mule which
+carries Colonel Uraga.  At the same time Cully places himself beside
+that bestridden by Roblez.
+
+Both have their bowie-knives in hand, the blades bare.  One regarding
+them, a stranger to their intent, might think they meant slaughtering
+either the mules or the men on their backs.
+
+They have no such thought, but a design altogether different, as
+declared by Wilder's words--the last spoken by him before the act of
+execution.
+
+"When I gie the signal, Nat, prod yur critter sharp, an' sweep the
+support from unner them.  They've been thegither in this world in the
+doin' o' many a rascally deed.  Let's send 'em thegither inter the
+next."
+
+"All right, ole hoss!  I'll be riddy," is the laconic rejoinder of
+Cully.
+
+After it another interval of silence, resembling that which usually
+precedes the falling of the gallows drop.  So profound, that the chirp
+of a tree cricket, even the rustling of a leaf, would seem a loud noise.
+So ominous, that the vultures perched upon the summit of the cliff
+crane out their necks to inquire the cause.
+
+The stillness is interrupted by a shout; not the signal promised by
+Wilder, but a cry coming from the lips of Uraga.
+
+In the last hour of anguish his craven heart has given way, and he makes
+a piteous appeal for mercy.  Not to those near him, knowing it would
+scarce be listened to; but to the man he has much wronged, calling out
+his name, "Colonel Miranda."
+
+On hearing it Don Valerian rushes forth from the tent, his sister by his
+side, Hamersley with the doctor behind.  All stand in front regarding
+the strange spectacle, of which they have been unconscious, seemingly
+prepared for them.  There can be no mistaking its import.  The _mise en
+scene_ explains it, showing the stage set for an execution.
+
+If they have a thought of interfering it is too late.  While they stand
+in suspense, a shout reaches them, followed by explanatory words.
+
+They are in the voice of Walt Wilder, who has said--
+
+"Death to the scoundrels!  Now, Nat, move your mule forrard!"
+
+At the same instant he and Cully are seen leaning towards the two mules,
+which bound simultaneously forward, as if stung by hornets or bitten by
+gadflys.
+
+But neither brings its rider along.  The latter--both of them--stay
+behind; not naturally, as dismounted and thrown to the earth; but, like
+the cradle of Mahomet, suspended between earth and heaven.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVENTY NINE.
+
+AFTER THE EXECUTION.
+
+It is mid-day over the Arroyo de Alamo.
+
+The same sun whose early morning rays fell around the deliberating
+lynchers, at a later hour lighting up a spectacle of execution, has
+mounted to the meridian, and now glares down upon a spectacle still
+sanguinary, though with tableaux changed.
+
+The camp is deserted.  There are no tents, no Texans, no horses, nor yet
+any mules.  All have disappeared from the place.
+
+True, Uraga and his lancers are still there--in body, not in spirit.
+Their souls have gone, no one may know whither.  Only their clay-cold
+forms remain, us left by the Rangers--the common soldiers lying upon the
+grass, the two officers swinging side by side, from the trees, with
+broken necks, drooping heads, and limbs dangling down--all alike
+corpses.
+
+Not for long do they stay unchanged--untouched.
+
+Scarce has the last hoof-stroke of the Texan horses died away down the
+valley, when the buzzards forsake their perch upon the bluff, and swoop
+down to the creek bottom.
+
+Simultaneously the wolves--grand grey and coyote--come sneaking out from
+the thicket's edge; at first cautiously, soon with bolder front,
+approaching the abandoned bodies.
+
+To the bark of the coyote, the bay of the bigger wolf, and the buzzard's
+hoarse croak, a _caracara_ adds its shrill note; the fiend-like chorus
+further strengthened by the scream of the white-headed eagle--for all
+the world like the filing of a frame saw, and not unlike the wild,
+unmeaning laughter of a madman.
+
+Both the predatory birds and the ravening beasts, with instincts in
+accord, gather around the quarry killed for them.  There is a grand
+feast--a banquet for all; and they have no need to quarrel over it.  But
+they do--the birds having to stand back till the beasts have eaten their
+fill.
+
+The puma, or panther, takes precedence--the so-called lion of America.
+A sorry brute to bear the name belonging to the king of quadrupeds.
+Still, on the Llano Estacado, lord of all, save when confronted by the
+grizzly bear--then he becomes a cat.
+
+As no grizzly has yet come upon the ground, and only two panthers, the
+wolves have it almost their own way, and only the vultures and eagles
+have to hold back.  But for the birds there is a side dish on which they
+may whet their appetites, beyond reach of the beasts.  To their share
+fall the two suspended from the trees; and, driven off from the others,
+they attack these with beak and talon, flapping around, settling upon
+the branches above, on the shoulders of the corpses, thick as honey-bees
+upon a branch, pecking out eyes, tearing at flesh, mutilating man--God's
+image--in every conceivable mode.
+
+No; there is one left, peculiar to man himself.  Strange, at this
+crisis, he should appear to give exhibition of it.  By pure chance--a
+sheer contingency--though not less deserving record.
+
+The beasts and birds while engaged in devouring the dead bodies are
+interrupted and scared away from their filthy repast, retreating
+suddenly from the ground at sight of their masters--men, who
+unexpectedly appear upon it.
+
+These are not the Rangers returning, but a band of Jicarilla Apaches--
+young braves out on a roving excursion.  They have come down the creek,
+making for the Pecos, and so chanced to stray into the deserted camp.
+
+Surprised at the spectacle there presented to their eyes, they are not
+the less delighted.  More than a dozen dead men, with scalps untaken!
+They can see there has been a fight, but do not stay to think who have
+been the victors.  Their thoughts are turned towards the vanquished,
+their eyes resting on heads that still carry their covering of hair.  In
+a trice their blades are bare, and it is cut off--the skin along with
+it--to the skull of the last lancer!
+
+Neither does Uraga nor his lieutenant escape the scalping-knife.  Before
+the savages part from the spot, the crowns of both show crimson, while
+the scalps stripped off appear as trophies on the points of two Apache
+spears.
+
+Not long do the Indians dally on the ghastly ground.  Soon forsaking it,
+they continue on down the creek.  Not in pursuit of the party which has
+so opportunely furnished them with spear-pennons and fringes for their
+leggings.  The testimony of so many dead men, with the tracks of so many
+horses--horses with large hoofs, evidently not ridden by Mexicans, whom
+they contemn, but Texans they terribly fear; these evidences make the
+Apaches cautious, and, keeping on towards the Pecos, they go not as
+pursuers, but men trying to shun the party that has passed before.
+
+In this they are successful.  They never sight the returning Texans, nor
+these them.  The Rangers go down the river; the savages up stream.  Of
+all Apaches, of all Indians, the Jicarillas are the most contemptible
+cowards.  Dastards to the last degree, the young "braves" who mutilated
+the slain lancers will return to their tribe to tell of scalps fairly
+taken in fight!
+
+And while they are boasting, the wolves, eagles, and vultures will be
+back among the dead bodies, strip them of their flesh, and leave nought
+but their bones to bleach white; in time to become dust, and mingle with
+the earth on which they once moved in all the pride of manhood and
+panoply of war!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER EIGHTY.
+
+TRANQUIL SCENES.
+
+The last act of our drama is recorded, the last sanguinary scene.  All
+red enough, the reader will say, while the keenly susceptible one may
+deem them too red.  Alas! the writer is not answerable for this.  He but
+depicts life as it exists on the borderland between Mexico and Texas.
+Those who doubt its reality, and would deem him drawing upon
+imagination, should read the Texan newspapers of that time, or those of
+this very day.  In either he will find recorded occurrences as strange,
+incidents as improbable, episodes as romantic, and tragedies of hue
+sanguinary as any recorded in this mere romance.
+
+Not always with such a satisfactory termination.  Fortunately for our
+tale and its readers, Nemesis, in dealing out death and meting
+vengeance, has necessarily allied herself with Justice.  The fallen
+deserved their fate--all, save the teamsters of the caravan, and those
+Texans who on Pecan Creek succumbed to the Comanche spears.
+
+These victims, like stage supernumeraries, living nameless and dying
+unknown, though their fate may stir our sympathy it does not appeal to
+the painful depths of sorrow.  More easily can it be borne, reflecting
+on the brighter fate of the survivors.
+
+It can give no painful sensation to tell that Colonel Miranda and his
+sister accompanied Frank Hamersley on his return to the States, Don
+Prospero and the New Mexican damsel, Conchita, being of the party, which
+had for escort across the plains Captain Haynes and his company of Texan
+Rangers, their old comrade, Walt Wilder, travelling along, and, with Nat
+Cully, narrating around their nightly camp fires many a strange "scrape"
+of the mountains and prairies.  Two subsequent scenes alone seem worthy
+of record, both fairly deserving it.
+
+The first occurs in a little country church in the celebrated "Blue
+Grass district" of Kentucky.  Within its walls have assembled some
+scores of the very bluest blood of this blue grass country--stalwart,
+handsome men, alongside a like number of lovely women.  They are
+assisting at a marriage ceremony, not an uncommon occurrence in a
+church.  But in the Kentuckian place of worship--a little rural edifice,
+far away from any town--it is something unusual to see three couples
+standing before the altar.  In the present case there is this number,
+none of the pairs strangers to the other two, but all three, by mutual
+agreement and understanding, to take Hymen's oath at the same time.
+
+Foremost and first to put the ring on his bride's finger is Frank
+Hamersley.  She who holds out her hand to receive it is Adela Miranda.
+
+Of the couple coming next, the bridegroom is known to the reader.  A
+handsome man, of dark complexion and pure Spanish features, remarked by
+the spectators as having resemblance to those of Hamersley's new-made
+bride.  Not strange, he being her brother.
+
+But who is the lady, the tall, fair girl consenting to make Don Valerian
+happy, so like Hamersley himself.
+
+No one asks this question, all present knowing she is his sister.
+
+A fair exchange between the brothers of the bride; each equally quick to
+fall in love with the sister of the other.  On the sterile Llano
+Estacado it took scarce a minute for the dark Mexican maiden to subdue
+the heart of Hamersley.  Almost as soon, in the fertile State of
+Kentucky, has his bright-skinned, blonde-haired sister made conquest of
+the Mexican Colonel.
+
+The third pair that presents itself to be made man and wife--who are
+they?  The bridegroom stands six feet two in his boots; the bride, in
+her satin slippers, far under five.  Without thinking of the
+disproportion in their stature, the reader will recognise Walt Wilder
+and Conchita.
+
+As the ex-Ranger puts the ring on the finger of his blushing bride, he
+accompanies the act with certain ludicrous protestations of fidelity not
+to be found in the printed ritual of the Church.
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+Another scene ends our tale; a simple episode of every-day life; but
+life in a strange land, remote from the ordinary centres of
+civilisation.
+
+It occurs in New Mexico, in itself a sort of oasis in the great middle
+desert of North America.  Locally, the scene takes place near
+Albuquerque, on the azotea of a handsome house, which commands a view of
+the town.
+
+It is the mansion once belonging to Don Valerian Miranda.
+
+That its former master has retained possession of it is evident from the
+fact of his being again on its roof, tranquilly smoking a cigaretto;
+while near by him is his sister.  Though one dearer stands between--his
+wife.  Adela is not distressed by her brother's preference for the new
+mistress of the mansion.  She has a mansion of her own, independent.
+Though far off, its master, Frank Hamersley, is near.
+
+Near, also, in the court-yard below is Walt Wilder, in his grotesque way
+playing Benedict to Conchita.  While up and down moves the doctor,
+sharing the general joy.
+
+Outside, upon the plain, the white tilts of twenty waggons, with the
+smoke of camp-fires rising over them, tell of a trader's caravan.  It is
+Hamersley's--late arrived--_en route_ for the Rio Abajo and El Paso del
+Norte.
+
+Its teamsters take their siesta, reposing in full confidence.  No fear
+of Indian attacks now, nor impost exactions from the tyrant Governor of
+New Mexico, Don Manuel Armijo!
+
+A war has swept the land; a new flag floats over it.  Seen streaming
+above the towers of Albuquerque, it promises security to all.  For it is
+the banner of the "Stars and Stripes!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lone Ranche, by Captain Mayne Reid
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LONE RANCHE ***
+
+***** This file should be named 21240.txt or 21240.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/2/4/21240/
+
+Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.